


Fire and Ice

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-09
Updated: 2005-10-08
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 65,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: In a journey of passion and heartache, Ron and Hermione desperately try to find happiness in the war torn wizarding world. Unfortunately, the biggest challenges they face are each other. Surprises abound as we discover the hidden relationship between our favorite quarreling duo. . .The Ron and Hermione companion piece to Harry and Ginny





	1. What Becomes of the Broken Hearted

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

A/N: This is a companion piece to my H/G story War and Passion. I recommend that you read that one first. It will explain Ron and Hermione’s War Mage status in detail..... Plus, countless other things. Even if you don’t like Harry/Ginny you might enjoy it. Like this story, my take on their relationship is VERY different from most. 

 

Fire and Ice 

Chapter One 

What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? 

 

 

Ron Weasley lay spread across his bed. His long legs practically dangled off the end of it. He shifted, and the mattress groaned under his weight. He sighed irritably. He had gained even more weight over the past year, and his little bed at the Burrow just wasn’t cutting it anymore. He had a hard enough time getting to sleep, and this only added to his problems. 

 

He sprang out of bed and rummaged through his trunk until he found a bottle of Ogden’s Fire Whiskey. Harry didn’t know that he still drank occasionally, so he kept it hidden in the bottom compartment. 

 

Ron walked over to the chair by the window and dropped his feet on the table as he took a long drink out of the bottle. He had been so tense for the past three days, he deserved a drink. If he wasn’t so bloody happy that Harry was alive, he’d kill him. Watching Harry almost bleed to death on Platform 9 3/4 had woken up feelings in him that he had thought were long dead. Leave it to Harry to make him deal with this shit all over again. He hated to feel fear or helplessness, and that was exactly what he'd felt for the past three days as Harry lay in a coma. Thank God, the daft bugger woke up. If he had remained asleep for one more day, Ron probably would’ve murdered the Medi-Wizard in charge of Harry’s care. He hated doctors anyway. 

 

Ron started when he heard a knock on the door. His wand was in his hand but he stopped himself from actually throwing a curse. 

 

“Go away!!!” 

 

“It’s me,” Hermione’s soft voice came from the other side of the door. 

 

Ron jumped up and opened the door. He leaned against the door way as he regarded Hermione standing there in her flannel pajamas. 

 

“Why, Miss Granger, what brings you up here at this time of night?” 

 

“Can I come in or not?” She crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at him. 

 

“By all means.” Ron pushed the door open further and she walked past him. He closed the door behind her and set a locking and silencing charm on it. 

 

Hermione walked over to the table and sat down. She picked up the bottle of whiskey and looked at him accusingly. “When are going to quit? You know that drinking kills brain cells.” 

 

“If you came up here to lecture me, you can leave now. I’m not in the mood tonight.” Ron dropped down into the other chair and yanked the bottle away from Hermione. 

 

“You’re never in the mood to hear what’s good for you.” Hermione pulled the bottle back and set it on the table. 

 

“As much as I love to row with you, could we skip this and get to what’s really bothering you?” Ron said with a smile as he deliberately picked up the bottle again and took a long drink. 

 

“What makes you think something’s bothering me?” Hermione sighed as she looked at the table. 

 

“Well, let’s see, I’ve spent almost every day with you since we were eleven. I’m not completely daft, Hermione. I know when you’re upset about something,” Ron said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes and dropped his feet back on the table. 

 

“Josh broke up with me,” Hermione was still looking at the table and Ron watched two tears roll down her face. 

 

“Oh, love, it’s okay.” Ron set his feet back on the floor and grabbed Hermione’s hand. “Come here,” he whispered as he pulled her onto his lap. 

 

“He didn’t even do it in person, he just sent me an owl. I think he’s scared of me. Can you imagine that? I thought he loved me,” Hermione mumbled as she curled against him and laid her head against Ron’s chest. 

 

Ron ran a large hand through her short curls “Hermione, it’s probably for the best. You two didn’t really have that great of a relationship to begin with.” 

 

“Yes, we did. He was perfect for me. We had all the same interests 

 

Ron titled her chin up to look at him. “Baby, I love you, you know that. But, you’re confused. You don’t have a great relationship with one man and sneak around to sleep with another. It just doesn’t work like that. If he was so perfect for you, you wouldn’t have kept coming back to me.” 

 

“Only sometimes,” she sighed and laid her head back against Ron’s chest. 

 

“As long as I live, I’ll never understand you, Hermione. You never loved him. I know you didn’t.” Ron continued to run a hand through her hair as he shook his head. 

 

“Yes, I did.” Hermione looked up to glare at Ron. 

 

“And what am I?” Ron questioned harshly as he glared back at her. 

 

“You’re my friend.” 

 

“Who you sleep with sometimes?” 

 

“Right.” 

 

“Hermione, don’t you see how fucked up that is?” Ron said as he continued to glare at her. 

 

“You sleep with other girls!” Hermione jumped off of Ron and crossed her arms over her chest as she stood in front of him. 

 

“And why is that?” Ron raised an eyebrow at her as he waited for her answer. 

 

“Because you’re a randy bugger, that’s why!” 

 

“There are times when we go for months without being together. I’m not Harry; celibacy doesn’t work for me. But, I would be happy to be with only you, if you gave me the chance.” 

 

“Ron, we can’t do that. We tried that once, it didn’t work.” Hermione came closer to Ron and ran a hand through his hair. 

 

“Let’s drop this for tonight. We can have this argument another time. I really am sorry you’re upset.” Ron pulled her closer and placed a kiss on the hallow of her throat. “I'm not sorry that he’s gone. But I want to kill him for hurting you.” 

 

“You don’t mean that,” Hermione said softly as she tilted her head to give him better access 

 

“Don’t I?” Ron mumbled as he began to trail kisses up her neck. 

 

“Don’t joke about things like that.” Hermione pulled away and looked at him seriously. 

 

“Okay, maybe I won’t kill him. Just injure him a little. I never liked him, anyway,” Ron mused with a nasty smile. 

 

“You don’t like anyone.” 

 

“I like you. I like Harry, when he’s not busy getting himself blown up. I like my family, sometimes. Who else matters?” Ron shrugged. 

 

“That’s sad, Ron. You didn’t used to be like this.” 

 

“Hermione, why did you come up here, tonight?” Ron asked irritably as he looked at her. 

 

“So, you could make me feel better.” 

 

“Well, why don’t you let me do that, then?” Ron growled as he put both hands around her waist and pulled her closer to him. 

 

“This doesn’t change anything between us.” 

 

“Save the speech, Hermione. I already have it memorized.” Ron sighed as he wrapped one hand into the curls at the nape of her neck and brought her face closer to his. 

 

His lips claimed hers in a soft kiss. His tongue ran gently across her lips, and they parted to him. He explored her mouth as he pulled her back onto his lap. Her legs straddled him and his hands slipped underneath her night shirt to run up the smooth skin of her back. 

 

“You taste like whiskey,” Hermione said with a small laugh as she pulled away and wrinkled her nose. 

 

He looked up at her and smiled. “You told me you liked that taste. And you'd better not tell, Harry. Or I may have to do something drastic.“ 

 

“Oh, like what, Mr. Weasley?” Hermione asked in a husky voice as she pulled his shirt off and dropped it to the ground. 

 

“I’ll tell him just how bad you really are. Just imagine how shocked he’d be. He might even fall right back into a coma, and it would be all your fault,” Ron laughed as he started to undo the buttons to her night shirt. 

 

“Well, we can’t have that. I’ll just have to keep your dirty little secret to myself then.” She smiled and let her night shirt drop to the floor. 

 

“God, you’re beautiful,” Ron groaned as his hands went up her naked back. His lips blazed a hot trail of wet kisses down her neck to her chest. His mouth closed over a taunt nipple and Hermione’s head fell back with a soft moan. 

 

“Have I properly thanked you for saving my sorry arse on the platform?” Ron murmured as his mouth trailed over to the other breast. 

 

“I don’t think so,” Hermione gasped as he took the other nipple in his mouth. 

 

“Hmmm. . . Well, Miss Granger, we’ll just have to fix that, won’t we?” He stopped to look at her with a playful grin. 

 

Hermione, knowing that grin, squealed and jumped off of him. He made a move to catch her, and she took off faster than lighting. “You’ll have to move faster than that to catch me, Mr. Weasley,” she taunted from the other side of his bed. 

 

“This is why women shouldn’t be War Mages,” Ron laughed as he leapt over the bed. 

 

He advanced on her, and Hermione went to jump over the bed once more, but he caught her mid-way. In one quick motion he flipped her on her back and had her arms pinned over her head with one hand. 

 

“I think you wanted to be caught. I know you’re a lot faster than that, Miss Granger,” he breathed thickly against her ear. 

 

“Oh God, I think you’re right,” Hermione moaned as his free hand slid beneath the lining of her pajama bottoms to caress her intimately. 

 

He leaned over her to trail lazy kisses over her chest and throat. Hermione arched her hips against his hand as he continued to torment her with his fingers. She tried to pull her arms out of Ron’s grasp but he held on effortlessly. 

 

“Ron, please,” she half sobbed as he took a nipple into his mouth once more. 

 

“What was that?” He smiled and looked up at her. 

 

“Let go!” 

 

“You see how nasty you can get? No, I think in the interest of my own safety, I’ll just keep things the way they are,” he breathed hotly against her skin between kisses. 

 

Hermione wrapped her legs firmly around him. “I said let go,” she hissed and applied pressure around his waist with her strong thighs. 

 

“Ouch. . . Dear God, Hermione, you’d kill Josh if you did this to him. I’m twice his size, and you’re almost killing me,” Ron gasped as she continued apply more pressure. 

 

With a pained moan Ron let go. Hermione’s hands flew into his hair as she brought his face closer to hers and captured his lips in a bruising kiss. As their tongues mated together, the playfulness disappeared, replaced by hard driving need and desire. He tugged her pajama bottoms off and kicked them to the side, then frantically pulled off his own trousers. Ron’s large hands wrapped around her waist and he pulled her to the edge of the bed. He bent down to kiss her once more and his tongue plunged into her mouth as he entered her. Her head jerked back with a low moan and her legs wrapped around him as he began to move in her with deep vigorous thrusts. The sheer power and energy that flowed from Ron matched her own, and Hermione let herself go as her hips met his. Ron’s hands lay on the bed framing Hermione’s face as he leaned over her, driving his body hard into her. Their muscles rippled as they came together in hard, frantic, desperation. Hermione’s small nails ripped across his broad back as she felt the pulsating throbbing rise to a peak Then, in a flash of blinding heat and pleasure their cries blended as they fell over the edge, together, their bodies shaking, their breath ragged, their skin tingling as wave after wave of pleasure flowed over them, until finally, Ron collapsed on top of Hermione as they tried to regain their breath. 

 

When his heart rate had partially calmed, and he was once again able to breathe in a somewhat normal fashion, Ron pulled up to look at her. Hermione’s eyes were still closed. Strands of her short hair clung to her face as a sheen of sweat covered her body. Her eye lids blinked open, and she gave him a lazy smile as she looked up at him. 

 

“What are you looking at?” Hermione asked as she leaned up on her elbows beneath him. 

 

“You. You’re beautiful, did you know that?” Ron said as he brush the moist hair away from her face. 

 

Hermione tilted her head and let her gaze travel down his muscular chest and arms. “So are you.” 

 

Ron gave a deep laugh “You think so, do you? I thought you preferred those skinny Head Boy types. Are you sure you didn’t get the wrong room? Percy is a few flights down.” 

 

Hermione cringed at the thought. “No, you’ll do. Besides, I seem to remember a time when you were skin and bones, so don’t poke fun.” 

 

Ron got up and walked over to his trunk. Hermione moved herself up to his pillow and propped her head on her hand as she watched Ron rummage through his trunk, completely unfazed by his nakedness. A small smile crossed her face as she admired him. He really was beautiful. He was so broad and muscular. His height only added to his appeal. Every inch of him spoke of hours and hours of War Mage training, and he wore it well. 

 

He found his boxers and slipped them on, then walked over to the table and grabbed his whiskey bottle and a chair. He set the chair next to the bed and sat down, dropping his feet over Hermione’s legs as he took another long drink. 

 

“You’re going to curl up with your whiskey instead of me?” Hermione asked with an amused smile. 

 

“Love, I can barely fit on that bed by myself.” 

 

“Yeah, when did you turn into such a giant? You’re going to be as big as Hagrid if you keep it up.” She kicked his feet off of her and turned to face him. 

 

“Don’t say that. I’m starting to worry about that, myself. Although, I guess it’s a good thing or else I’d be going to St. Mungo’s right now. My sides still hurt. Not that I’m complaining, I like it when you’re rough,” Ron laughed as he raised his eyebrows suggestively at her. 

 

“You are strange, Ron,” Hermione mused as she fell onto her back. 

 

“Hey, I wouldn’t talk. You almost killed me. I think I’m going to have bruises. How am I supposed to explain that to Harry?” Ron set the whiskey on the table behind him, then poked at his side to feel for injuries. 

 

“Oh stop, I wasn’t that hard on you. Besides, you’re not exactly gentle. I’ve seen some of the girls you meet up with. You can’t tell me that you act like that with them. I have almost two years of War Mage training behind me and I can barely keep up with you.” Hermione turned back to look at him and arched an eyebrow questioningly. 

 

“To tell you the truth, Hermione, I really don’t enjoy being with those other girls at all. It’s kind of boring, to me. If you hadn’t been with Josh, I wouldn’t have bothered,” Ron sighed as he dropped his feet over her legs again. 

 

“God, Ron, how did we create this mess for ourselves?” 

 

“Easy, you’re stubborn,” Ron smirked. 

 

“You and your daft mistakes didn’t help,” Hermione laughed as she kicked his legs off of her again. 

 

“You think too much.” 

 

“You have the worse temper of anyone I have ever met!” 

 

“You’re the biggest know-it-all I’ve ever met!” 

 

“You like other women too much!” 

 

“You like skinny Head Boys too much!” 

 

“You broke my heart.” 

 

“Well, Hermione, you broke mine, too. . . But, I still love you,” Ron sighed as he crawled back on top of her. “Even, if you’ll never love me back.”


	2. The Begining

Ron had his feet propped up on the edge of his bed as he sat in his chair and looked down at Hermione’s sleeping form. He let his gaze travel over her sleekly muscled body, still flushed from their love-making. His life would be so much easier if he could deny her, and move on. He was not lacking in female attention; he hadn’t been for a long time. Still, Hermione wasn’t your ordinary female, and that appealed to Ron. She had saved both his and Harry’s lives three days ago. She could kill with deadly force if she had to. He could search the planet over and never find another woman who could do that. Not for the first time, Ron wished he had a second chance to go back and do things right. Harry was a pain sometimes, but he did have rare insight, and it would have served Ron to have listened to him. He had started his relationship with Hermione at a time when he was not emotionally stable enough to handle it. Hermione was right; he had made drastic mistakes. Of course, he had paid for his sins a thousand times over since then. Hermione’d been driving a knife into his heart for the past two years, and when a War Mage wields a knife, you know it’s going to hurt. 

 

 

Summer of 1995 

 

Doctor Wilkins sat at a table looking over the charts in front of him. It was a high-profile case. His colleagues had all been jealous of him for having the opportunity to treat the two boys. As he glanced up from his paper work and looked at the boys sitting in front of him, he was suddenly not so sure he wanted the case anymore. 

 

They each sat on their respective hospital beds as the glaring light from the hospital room at St. Mungo’s glowed around them. Each one had their hands resting on their knees as they waited for him to review their charts. The dark-haired boy, none other than Harry Potter himself, was looking at the window, lost in misery as he ignored the doctors presence. The other boy was looking straight at him, his blue eyes burning in icy fury, his red hair matching his obvious temper. Ron Weasley: the doctor had studied his charts. He had read about him in the Daily Prophet as the details of the two boys' kidnapping filtered out to the press. But nothing could have prepared him for the unsettling feeling he got under the fifteen-year-old’s gaze. He seemed to radiate some sort of anger and power that was just dying to burst out. 

 

“Why are you here?” Ron snapped. 

 

“I’m here to help determine the extent of your injuries.” Doctor Wilkins set down his paper work to give Ron and Harry his full attention. 

 

“They’ve already done that.” 

 

“I’m here to help determine the extent of your mental injuries,” the doctor said a little uneasily. 

 

“Oh dear God, I’m never going to forgive my mum for this.” Ron rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. “Harry, are you hearing this?” 

 

“Yeah, I heard,” he stated without turning to acknowledge the doctor 

 

“So, do you want to tell me about what happened?” Doctor Wilkins questioned in a soothing voice. 

 

“No! Why would I want to tell you about it? I don’t even know you,” Ron growled as he continued to glare at the doctor. “Harry, do you want to tell this flake about it?” 

 

“Not really.” 

 

“There you have it! You can leave now.” Ron lifted his hand to the door. 

 

“I’m not leaving until we discuss this,” Doctor Wilkins stated firmly; he wasn’t going to be bullied by a fifteen-year-old. 

 

“Fine, but you’re going to be sitting there for a long fucking time,” Ron said with a nasty smile causing Harry to chuckle under his breath. 

 

“Have you always been this vulgar?” The doctor asked. 

 

“Why do you care? Are you my mother?” 

 

“Look, I understand that you must have a lot of anger and resentment. It’s natural to feel these things.” 

 

“Is it? Well, that’s a comfort. I suppose you think you’re going to help us through it, right. Save our aching souls and all that. Don’t waste your breath. I don’t want saving. I like my anger,” Ron hissed as his blue eyes continued to bore into the doctor. 

 

“Look, doctor, I don’t mean to be rude, but really, you are wasting your time. There is nothing you can do for either of us, and I promise you that you will be sitting there a long time. He’s not going to talk about it, and neither am I. You could save yourself a lot of trouble by leaving,” Harry said as he turned back to the doctor with a look of sympathy. 

 

“Why don’t you want to talk about it?” 

 

“I’ll tell you what. You go get kidnapped by Death Eaters and have the Cruciatus Curse thrown at you for fifteen hours. Then, come back and let me know if you want to talk about it,” Ron growled at the doctor. 

 

“It must have been horrible.” 

 

“No, it was great! We had the time of our lives,” Ron said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes again. 

 

“Tell me about that wound on your cheek. I understand you didn’t want it healed. Want to tell me why?” 

 

“You really want to know?” 

 

“Yes, I do,” the doctor stated hopefully. 

 

“Ron, don’t answer that,” Harry said seriously. 

 

“Why not, Harry? He said he wanted to know,” Ron asked as he looked at Harry. Then he turned back to the doctor, “I killed the Death Eater who gave me this cut. Did you know that?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“It’s true. I drove a knife right through his black heart.” 

 

“Ron!” Harry yelled warningly. 

 

Ron ignored him as he smiled cynically at the doctor. “I didn’t want this healed because it reminds me what happens to people who fuck with me or fuck with my friends. I would recommend that you look at this cut real close, because you’re starting to irritate me.” 

 

“Oh,” the doctor said with round eyes as he looked the thin red-haired boy in front of him. 

 

“Now, are we done having this conversation?” 

 

“I guess we are,” the doctor mumbled as he gathered his papers. 

 

“Good,” Ron said as he fell back against his pillow and closed his eyes. 

 

After the doctor left Harry hurled his pillow at Ron. “Way to go, dickhead! The press is already having a field day. All we need is for it to come out that we killed those two Death Eaters.” 

 

“Like I care! I want it to come out. I don’t understand why it’s such a big fucking secret to begin with,” Ron said as he threw the pillow back at Harry. 

 

“You know, Ron, I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to train as a War Mage. You’re bad tempered to begin with, give you some weapons and we’re all in trouble.” 

 

“You have no idea, Harry. I’m going to be the best War Mage the department has ever seen. I can’t wait. Dumbledore is my bloody hero. I couldn’t believe our luck when he suggested that,” Ron sighed as he laced his fingers behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. 

 

 

One week later 

 

“What?!” Hermione’s horrified voice echoed through Professor Lupin’s office. 

 

“Hermione, you have to cut your hair. You can’t have long hair like that. It would get in the way. You can’t afford that weakness,” Sirius reasoned with her. 

 

“I could put it up.” 

 

“No, it has to go. You said you wanted to do this. It comes with certain sacrifices. This is one of them. If it makes you feel better, Ron and Harry are getting their hair cut too,” Sirius said as he looked at Hermione’s horror-struck face. 

 

“How short?” she whispered. 

 

“Pretty short. It has to be off your neck.” 

 

“I’ll be the only girl in school with hair that short. Witches don’t have short hair,” she mumbled. 

 

“Well, Hermione, witches aren’t War Mages either. You’re the first. So, this is what you’re going to have to do to keep that status.” 

 

“I’m sure it won’t look that bad, Hermione,” Ron said with an amused smile. 

 

“Thanks, Ron, that helps!” 

 

“Hermione, we tried to talk you out of this. Maybe you should consider not doing it,” Harry said sympathetically. 

 

“I’ll cut it, but I’ll have Lavender do it. You can butcher Ron and Harry’s hair. I’m not letting you anywhere near mine,” Hermione hissed at Sirius. 

 

“Fine, just make sure it’s done in the next couple of days.” 

 

“Fine!” Hermione yelled as she walked to the door and lifted the locking spell set on it. 

 

“That went over well,” Ron said to Sirius after she left. 

 

“I expected as much. Witches are funny about their hair,” Sirius said with a small smile as he looked at the door. 

 

“I guess.” Ron shook his head as he walked towards the door. “Are you coming, Harry?” 

 

“No, I’ve got to meet with Dumbledore so he can help me with this wandless magic stuff.” 

 

“Right. . . handy trick, that! Too bad you couldn’t have realized that little talent about fifteen hours earlier,” Ron said with a bitter laugh. 

 

“Don’t I know it,” Harry sighed as Ron headed out the door. 

 

Ron walked down the hallway in long strides. He wanted to get to Gryffindor Tower as quickly as he could. Ever since they had returned to school, people would either gawk at him or ask stupid questions he didn’t want to answer. His temper was at a breaking point. To think that he had once been jealous of all the attention Harry got. Dear God, he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. 

 

“Are you Ron Weasley?” 

 

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath. Then he turned to the pretty brunette standing at the end of the hallway. “Yes. . . Why?” 

 

“I read about you in the paper,” she said with a smile as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. 

 

“That doesn’t make you special. Everyone read about me in the paper.” 

 

“You must be a really strong person to have survived that,” she said softly as she walked closer to him. 

 

“So they say. . . Look, I’m in a hurry. Is there something I can help you with?” Ron said in exasperation as he looked down at the girl who was standing right in front of him now. 

 

“Did you really refuse to have that cut healed?” She reached up to lightly touch the scar on his cheek. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

“Trust me, you don’t want the answer to that,” Ron sighed as he narrowed his eyes at the girl. 

 

“I think it’s kind of sexy. . . that scar. It looks good on you. It shows how brave you are,” she said in a silky voice as she looked up at him. 

 

Ron could only stand there and gape at her. “Are you hitting on me?” he gasped when he finally found his voice. 

 

“I might be.” She let her hand drift up his arm as she watched Ron’s jaw drop. 

 

“Why?” He couldn't believe this. Girls didn’t really find him that interesting. 

 

“I’m attracted to you,” she stated simply. 

 

Ron stood there for a long time looking down at the girl. She was pretty. She was slim and petite. Her blue eyes were framed by think black eyelashes. Her brown hair fell around her in chocolate waves. Overall, certainly not a girl who should be interested in him. He had seen her around school before. He knew that she was in Hufflepuff and that she was a sixth year, which was another reason that he was shocked. She was a full year older than he was. 

 

“What’s your name?” Ron asked when he came to his senses. 

 

“Alyssa,” she said with a triumphant smile. 

 

“Well, Alyssa, what do want to get out of this?” Ron asked skeptically. 

 

“Come with me, and I’ll show you,” Alyssa said as she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hallway. 

 

 

* 

 

 

Two hours later Ron walked into his dorm and pulled back the curtains to Harry’s bed. He found Harry sprawled out looking at the ceiling with the same lost look he'd had ever since he'd broken up with Ginny. Harry turned to look at Ron in irritation. 

 

“What?” he growled as he glared at Ron. 

 

“You have been holding out on me, you fuck!” Ron said as he pushed Harry over and sat on his bed. 

 

“What are you talking about?” Harry sat up and continued to glare at Ron. 

 

“Girls. . . If they’re hitting on me, I know they’re hitting on you.” 

 

“I guess. . . I don’t really pay attention,” Harry shrugged. “Why?” 

 

Ron told him about what happened. Harry listened without interrupting until Ron got to crucial part of the story. 

 

“You didn’t actually shag her did you?” Harry gasped in shock. 

 

“Of course I did.” 

 

“No!” Harry’s jaw dropped. 

 

“Yes,” Ron sighed as he fell back against Harry’s bed. 

 

“You don’t even know this girl,” Harry said with a worried frown as he stood up and looked at Ron. 

 

“I know her now.” Ron smiled and raised an eyebrow at Harry. 

 

“You’re telling me she just wanted to shag and that’s it?” 

 

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you; she said as much. And I’ll tell you something else, Harry. I haven’t felt this good in weeks. I may even sleep tonight. I doubt I’ll have one nightmare. Who needs the whiskey Charlie sent us? This is a far better cure,” Ron said as he put his hands behind his head. 

 

“Well, if it will mellow you out, I’ll send her a bloody thank you card,” Harry sighed as he started to get ready for bed. 

 

 

* 

 

“Get up, Ron.” Harry shoved at Ron a few hours later. “Come on! We’re late.” 

 

“Go away,” Ron mumbled and rolled over. 

 

“No, you have to get up. Snuffles made us run five extra laps because we were late yesterday,” Harry said in exasperation as he shook Ron. 

 

“God damn! Why do we have to get up so bloody early? I’ll never get used to this. It’s almost five in the morning.” Ron pushed Harry off of him and rose to get ready with a scowl. 

 

Ten minutes later Ron and Harry headed quietly out of the boys' dormitory. They had both donned their black training clothes and transfigured their weapons belts. Ron swung his duffle bag over his shoulder as he grumpily headed down the stairs to the common room. He stopped on the bottom stair causing Harry to run into him. Ron barely noticed. He was too busy gaping at the figure leaning against the sofa. 

 

“Not a word, Ron.” Hermione glared at him as she folded her arms over her chest. 

 

“Hermione, my god! It looks. . . good!” he gasped out. 

 

It did. It looked stunning. Ron could hardly believe it was the same Hermione. Her frizzy hair was gone. It was replaced by sleek curls that framed her face. It made her look older and more refined. Ron had always thought Hermione was pretty, but this was something else altogether. She was gorgeous. 

 

“Well, it doesn’t matter one way or the other. It’s gone, so let’s go,” Hermione snipped as she turned towards the portrait. 

 

Harry stepped around Ron and started to follow after Hermione. He stopped when he realized Ron wasn’t following. “Are you coming?” 

 

“What?” Ron mumbled 

 

“What’s the matter with you? Are . You . Coming?” Harry drew out each word as if he was talking to a small child. 

 

“Huh. . . Yeah.” Ron shook his head and started to walk towards Harry. 

 

 

“I swear, Ron, you have been acting really strange lately. First, that Hufflepu--” Harry was cut off as Ron smacked the back of his head. 

 

“Ouch! What was that for?” Harry muttered as he rubbed his head. 

 

“Shut up,” Ron hissed under his breath as he cast a glance at Hermione who was already stepping out of the portrait. 

 

Harry looked at Hermione and then tuned back to Ron. His eyes widened. “You fancy Hermione?” 

 

“Let’s go, Harry,” Ron said dismissively as he started to walk towards Hermione. Harry grabbed his arm and held him back. 

 

“Ron, get all thoughts of Hermione out of your head. If I find out you tried to shag her, I’ll be VERY upset,” Harry whispered fiercely. 

 

“Sod off,” Ron whispered back as he jerked his arm out of Harry’s grasp. 

 

“Ron, I’m not kidding. You’re a mess right now. We both are. It would be a very bad idea to try and get involved with her,” Harry hissed quietly as he caught up with Ron. 

 

“Why don’t you focus on staying away from my sister and mind your own business.” 

 

“Fuck you, Ron!” Harry said sharply, no longer worried about keeping his voice down. 

 

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I’m a mess, okay. Don’t worry about it.” Ron stopped to look at Harry apologetically. 

 

“What are you two arguing over?” Hermione asked as she peeked back into the common room through the still opened portrait. 

 

“Nothing,” they said in unison as they headed out of the common room. 

 

 

* 

 

Ron spent the next two weeks trying to completely absorb himself in the War Mage training, as a distraction against his increasing desire for Hermione. He was pretty much sore from head to toe. He hurt in places he didn’t know he had. Aside, from having to get up at an ungodly hour, he enjoyed the training. He was never going to be a victim again, and the training provided the solution for that. He could deal with a few sore muscles; it was a walk in the park next to the Cruciatus Curse. He spent hours up in the third floor corridor practicing with the weapons they had made for him. He was mostly alone during that time. Harry or Hermione joined him sometimes, but it was obvious they each had their own skills they were developing. Harry spent most of his free time in Dumbledore’s office working on his wandless magic. Hermione spent her extra time poring over the advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts books they had been given. 

 

It was late one night that Ron was sitting on an old desk in the third floor corridor. He had all his weapons laid out beside him as he fiddled with each one. They were magically charmed to change into the weapon of the moment, and he was still trying to learn the different aspects of each one. He had declined to meet Alyssa and had fended off one her friends as well. Apparently, Alyssa had a big mouth which was decidedly annoying to Ron, even if she did say good things about him. 

 

“I’ve been looking for you,” Hermione announced as she walked in, causing Ron to jump. 

 

“Your startle reflexes. . . Ron, that’s impressive,” Hermione said with a smile as she looked at the wand in Ron’s hand. 

 

Ron looked at it as well, wondering how in the hell it had ended up there. 

 

“I guess it’s all the extra practice I’ve been doing,” he shrugged and slid it back into the special holster on his belt. He was wearing his battle uniform since he was practicing with weapons. 

 

“It’s kind of late. . . Why are you still up here?” Hermione asked as she moved a few of his weapons out of the way and hopped up to sit next to him on the desk. 

 

“I like it up here. It’s quiet and no one bothers me.” 

 

“You have been getting a lot of attention lately. I guess Harry’s used to it, but I can see where it would bother you,” Hermione said as she leaned back on her hands and her feet swung back and forth as they dangled off the desk. 

 

“I hate it, to be honest. I feel really bad about giving Harry hell about it all this time. I had no idea it was this annoying,” Ron sighed as he turned to Hermione. 

 

“If you keep being so rude to everyone I’m sure they’ll leave you alone, eventually.” Hermione grinned at him and arched one eyebrow. 

 

“I guess I need to work on that.” 

 

“Just a little. . .” 

 

“So, what can I do for you, Miss Granger, “ Ron said playfully. 

 

“Nothing, Mr. Weasley. I was just worried about you,” Hermione laughed as she too used his last name. 

 

“You want to practice a little?” Ron asked as he picked up the knife he’d been working with and went back to studying it. 

 

“Ugh . . . No, I’ve had enough for today. Besides, my hands are raw. I need to go down to Madam Pomfrey to see if she has anything for it.” 

 

“Let me see,” Ron set down the knife and pulled on her arm. 

 

Hermione sat up and laid her hand palm up on his leg. He picked it up to look closer. “You’re such a girl. That’s nothing.” He dropped her hand and held his, palm up, in front of her. “Look at that.” 

 

“Oh God, Ron, that’s awful! We need to go down to Madam Pomfrey right now!” Hermione gasped as she looked at Ron’s blistered and beaten hand. 

 

“I’m not going down there. I’ve seen enough doctors and nurses to last a lifetime.” 

 

“I don’t know. It looks pretty bad. I think we should go,” Hermione said thoughtfully as she pulled his hand closer to study it. 

 

She ran her finger lightly over the inside of his palm, and Ron sucked in a sharp breath at the tingling sensation it caused. 

 

“Did that hurt?” Hermione asked as she looked up worriedly. 

 

“No. . .no, it’s fine,” he choked out. 

 

Her brow creased as she looked at him. She ran her finger across his hand one more time, and Ron closed his eyes for a second, then jerked his hand out of her grasp. 

 

“It’s fine. I think we should head back.” Ron jumped off the desk and started to shove his various weapons back into his belt forcefully as Hermione sat on the desk staring at him. 

 

“I’m not ready to head back,” she said after a while, causing Ron to stop and look at her. 

 

“Do you want to practice?” 

 

“No.” 

 

Ron stood there, staring at her for a while as she looked back him from her seat on the desk. He was wasn’t quite so naive anymore, and he had pretty good idea what she was suggesting, but his brain was having a hard time wrapping itself around the idea that Hermione would behave in such a fashion. 

 

“I think we should go,” he said finally. 

 

“I said I wasn’t ready,” she whispered softly as she continued to look at him. 

 

“Look, it’s probably not a great idea for us to be up here alone together,” Ron sighed as he went to stand in front of her. 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Do you really want me to explain it to you?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

Ron almost gaped at her. His eyes widened as he took in her flushed face and set features as she waited for an answer. Well, if she wanted one, he’d give it to her. 

 

“Hermione, I’m not very good at self restraint, and I want you desperately. So, unless you want Harry to practice his wandless magic on me, I suggest we leave,” Ron answered bluntly and unblinkingly as he looked back at her. 

 

Hermione eyes widened and her already flushed cheeks turned a shade pinker. Ron crossed his arms over his chest as she continued to stare at him. She blinked a few times then her brow furred in thought. 

 

“Why would Harry practice his wandless magic on you?” she asked seriously. 

 

“Jesus, Hermione, why does it mater?” 

 

“I don’t know, it’s just surprising that you’d say that. I don’t think he’d care,” Hermione shrugged as she continued to ponder it. 

 

“You think too much!” Ron growled as he wrapped one hand into the curls at the nape of her neck and brought her face closer to his. “Do you want to leave?” 

 

“No,” she whispered as she licked her lips nervously. 

 

Ron’s eyes watched her tongue dart out against her lips, and he felt the desire for her that he had kept suppressed for god knows how long shoot to the surface. Her face was inches from his and her soft curls felt so good in his hand. He had one thought as he looked at her flushed face and now moist lips. Harry Potter could sod off!


	3. Discoveries

ven in sleep a War Mage's senses were highly sensitive. Hermione had spent two years honing them, and they were not easily ignored. She could feel someone watching her. Before her brain could tell her who it was, she rolled over quickly and reached for her wand, which she always kept on her pillow next to her. It took her a few more seconds to blink awake and realize that her wand was strangely absent.

 

“Looking for this?”

 

Hermione glanced up to see Ron smiling at her as he held up her wand. She immediately relaxed and fell back into bed, thankful that Ron had had the insight to take it away from her once she'd fallen asleep.

 

“Do you ever sleep, Ron? It’s not good for you to stay up all the time. You had hardly any rest at the hospital. You must be exhausted,” Hermione mumbled in a sleepy tone.

 

“Even half asleep you lecture me. . . I can’t win,” Ron laughed as he leaned over to brush his lips lightly against hers. He lifted his head to look at her and smiled. “I’d much rather look at a naked woman lying in my bed than fight with nasty nightmares. . . Can you blame me?”

 

Almost unconsciously, Hermione reached up and ran a finger over the scar on his cheekbone. She was reminded why she had fallen so desperately in love with him. How many people could withstand the torture he’d been subject to and walk away with their pride intact? He had never once wavered from his loyalty to Harry. In a moment of grief and guilt Harry had told her about the hours of pain that Ron had suffered through because he’d been unwilling to give in. Only Ron could pull off something like that. 

 

Hermione had fancied him for years before he’d bothered to notice that she was a girl. When Ron had returned from his ordeal bitter but not broken, her love for him had multiplied a thousand fold. She had spent fifteen hours thinking that Harry and Ron were gone forever. That kind of trauma can make people do things completely out of character. It can make you give in to desires that should be forbidden. The night that Ron told her that he saw her as more than a friend had brought out a side of her better left undiscovered. She had paid dearly for that night ever since.

 

 

September 1995 

 

 

Hermione had been worried about Ron all night. He had once again disappeared. It was becoming an alarming habit of his since they had returned to school. Hermione knew that he hardly ever slept. He was running off fumes of anger that were bound to wear out eventually. He pushed himself so hard in training that she and Harry were left breathless and aching trying to keep up with him. In a million years, Hermione would never have guessed that Ron, who had spent countless hours making fun of her own drive for excellence, could turn into such a maniac when it came to being a War Mage. 

 

Hermione headed out of the common room, gaining a few curious stares from the older students who were still up. She had overheard the comments and whispers that floated around about her, Ron’s and Harry’s strange schedules. They were the only three students to be given passes that gave them free rein over the school despite the hour. There were many nights that their training didn’t end until well after everyone else was supposed to be in bed. Even now, Harry was still in special classes with Dumbledore. 

 

Hermione knew where Ron was. He had taken to hiding in the third floor corridor to work with his weapons. She and Harry usually alternated the duty of dragging him back to the common room. If they didn’t he’d stay up there all night. He never noticed this of course. Usually they’d humor him with a few practice rounds then gently suggest that maybe it was time to head back. 

 

Hermione quietly opened the door the corridor. She would never admit it but she did enjoying watching him train. For once, however, he was contenting himself with just sitting and analyzing his weapons. Hermione felt her heart clench at the sight of him. For the first time in weeks she could see the boy he was before his kidnapping. He looked almost child like sitting on the desk with his weapons spread out around him like favorite toys. Hermione was stuck by just how handsome he was becoming. His hair appeared a much darker shade of red since he’d been forced to cut it so short. His features had taken on a more chiseled look as he grew into manhood. He was wearing his War Mage uniform, and it showed the result of hours of exercise he’d participated in over the past weeks. He might not notice it, but Hermione had caught more than a few girls eyeing him. She suspected it was more than just his looks that were drawing that attention. His strength and bravery had been recounted in wizarding newspapers around the globe. But at that moment, as he his long legs dangled off the desk, causing his booted feet to brush lightly back and forth across the floor, he was just Ron again. The Ron she had loved from her first year. 

 

Not wanting to be caught staring at him, she announced her presence. To her huge shock the reflexes that they had been warned would start to take over, kicked in, and he pointed his wand at her. She made a mental note to refrain from startling him in the future. In a few more months he could easily hex her before she’d have a chance to react.

 

Hermione couldn’t help but complement him on it. He had been training so hard, and she was happy to see some of it paying off. She hopped up on the desk next to him, unable to resist his somewhat light mood. Ron was usually so intense and focused, but tonight he seemed more his old self. The two of them used to spend a lot of time alone together while Harry was off at Quidditch practice. During that time their conversations were usually peaceful and relaxed, free from the petty bickering that they could oftentimes get caught up in. Hermione hadn’t realized how much she’d missed those quiet moments with Ron until now. She was thoroughly disappointed when he asked her if she wanted to practice. Hermione knew it was too much to hope that Ron had missed their time together as she had. 

 

“Ugh . . . No, I’ve had enough for today. Besides, my hands are raw. I need to go down to Madam Pomfrey to see if she has anything for it.” 

 

It wasn’t a lie, her hands were raw. But, she was using it as an excuse tonight. 

 

“Let me see,” Ron set down his knife and pulled on her arm. 

 

Hermione had to suppress the shudder that was threatening to run through her at his touch. Feeling bold, she laid her hand palm up on his leg. He picked it up to look closer. 

 

“You’re such a girl. That’s nothing.” He dropped her hand and held his, palm up, in front of her. “Look at that.” 

 

Hermione felt all the peaceful happiness that she’d been enjoying flood out of her as she looked at his blistered and beaten hand. 

 

“Oh God, Ron, that’s awful! We need to go down to Madam Pomfrey right now!” 

 

“I’m not going down there. I’ve seen enough doctors and nurses to last a lifetime,” he growled in what was becoming his usual temper of late. 

 

“I don’t know. It looks pretty bad. I think we should go.” 

 

Hermione pulled his hand closer to study it. His obsession with training was getting way out of control. She ran a finger over the broken skin and newly formed blisters. She heard him take a sharp breath, and her concern multiplied 

 

“Did that hurt?” 

 

“No. . .no, it’s fine.” Ron’s voice contained something Hermione had never heard out of him before. It was several octaves lower and held a thickness that made her shiver for some unknown reason. 

 

She looked at him for a while. Then ran her finger across his palm once more to see if she got the same reaction. She watched as his eyes closed for a second and felt his hand relax in hers. He didn’t look like he was in pain at all. Quite the contrary, he looked like he was enjoying being touched by her. 

 

“It’s fine. I think we should head back.” 

 

Hermione felt a keen loss when he jerked his hand out of her grasp and jumped off the desk. 

 

She hadn’t imagined it. She knew he’d enjoyed being touched by her. His actions now were only confirming it. His body was rigid as he picked up each weapon and shoved it into the slots of his belt with far more force than necessary. It was at that moment that Hermione made a decision that would change her life. She had loved Ron forever. If there was some hope of him loving her in return she wanted to know about it. 

 

“I’m not ready to head back.” 

 

Ron stopped to look at her in confusion. “Do you want to practice?” 

 

“No.” 

 

Ron stared at her and Hermione could see the shock on his face. It seemed like forever before he spoke again. 

 

“I think we should go.” 

 

Hermione almost gave in. She almost gave up and went back to their old routine. After all, she was risking a lot by being so obvious about her feelings for him. She was on the verge of revealing a secret she’d kept carefully guarded for a long time. Then she remembered how she'd felt when she'd thought he was gone forever. She had been given a second chance when Ron and Harry had managed escape from the Death Eaters last month. She would be a fool to waste it, and Hermione Granger was no fool. 

 

“I said I wasn’t ready,” she whispered. 

 

“Look, it’s probably not a great idea for us to be up here alone together,” Ron said as he moved to stand in front of her. 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Do you really want me to explain it to you?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

She wanted to hear him admit it. Her heart was racing as she watched his eyes widen. She could see him raging an inner battle with himself before he finally gave in and spoke again. 

 

“Hermione, I’m not very good at self restraint, and I want you desperately. So, unless you want Harry to practice his wandless magic on me, I suggest we leave.” 

 

Hermione had expected a lot of things, but not that. That was about as bold as you could get. Then again, this was Ron she was dealing with. He hadn’t said soft words of love. But, he had admitted that he saw her as more than just one of the blokes. Then a thought hit her, and she felt a sudden flood of anger. 

 

“Why would Harry practice his wandless magic on you?” 

 

“Jesus, Hermione, why does it mater?” Ron sighed in exasperation. 

 

It mattered a lot to Hermione. It meant that the only reason she’d been living a lie was because Harry and his meddling had forced Ron to keep his feelings secret. 

 

“I don’t know, it’s just surprising that you’d say that. I don’t think he’d care.” 

 

Hermione shrugged and tried to hide her feelings of fury at Harry. He'd better not care. Just because Harry had seen fit to turn his own love life into a nightmare didn’t mean he had to drag her and Ron down with him. 

 

“You think too much!” Ron growled as he wrapped one hand into the curls at the nape of her neck and brought her face closer to his. “Do you want to leave?” 

 

“No,” she whispered as she licked her lips nervously. 

 

Hermione's heart was beating so furiously; she thought she might die from the waiting. Time seemed to stand still as Ron looked at her lips. Then he looked back up, and Hermione’s breath caught in her chest. His eyes had darkened to a deep, searing blue. She felt all her senses jump alive under his intense gaze. It hit her that she was agreeing to a lot more than she should. He was looking at her in a way that spoke of things far more extreme than a simple kiss. 

 

She had never imagined Ron would assume that, but it was obvious he had. She opened her mouth to clarify when Ron’s lips crushed against hers instead. Her protests were lost in a choked gasp when she felt an unbelievable fire pour though her as his tongue thrust past her parted lips. Ron let out a low groan, and Hermione felt it down to her very soul. She forgot that she was supposed to be explaining herself more clearly and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to her. 

 

Ron tilted her head up and moved to stand between her legs as Hermione struggled to maintain control of herself. She had kissed Viktor a few times, and it had felt nothing like this. This was totally overpowering. It blocked out all sense of reason. She could feel it in places that made her blush to think about. Time lost all meaning; the kiss became more intense and desperate. Hermione’s whole being became focused on one goal, getting closer to Ron. It was pure instinct that caused her to arch her hips against him, bringing their lower bodies into sharp contact. The gasp was simultaneous between them. The kiss ended abruptly. Hermione’s eyes opened wide in shock when she felt his reaction to her. Ron seemed far past being embarrassed. He simply let his hand fall to her lower back holding her against him. 

 

Hermione wasn’t surprised by what his body was doing; that was a normal male reaction, and Hermione wasn’t totally naive. It was her body that was surprising her. The feeling of him pressed so intimately against her had sent shock waves of pleasure though her. Hermione, being the curious person that she was, moved her hips once more and the sensation intensified. It was almost painful, her need for him, the ache he was creating. Her head fell back with a soft moan, and Ron’s hands slid to her waist stilling her movements. 

 

“Hermione, you’re killing me,” Ron gasped with a raged breath. 

 

“Ron. . . Please I. . . I need. . .” Hermione had no idea how to explain the driving feelings that were coursing through her, making her act in a way that was shocking to both of them.

 

Ron looked up towards the ceiling before he took another deep breath. 

 

”It’s okay, Love, I know. Just give me a second. I had no idea you could affect me like this. I’m about to go mad.” The words tumbled out of Ron in barely coherent sentences. 

 

Hermione felt her heart leap at the gentle endearment he used. It sounded so right coming from him, like he’d been calling her that for a thousand years. 

 

When he'd got himself under control, Ron turned to look at the cold stone floor then back to the desk where Hermione was still sitting, silently debating with himself. 

 

“This is a rotten place. Maybe. . . maybe we should. . . wait,” Ron choked as he removed one hand from around her waist to rub his forehead in frustration. 

 

“No!” Hermione gasped before she could stop herself. Then she felt her face heat up at her behavior. 

 

“Hermione, I swear. . . When you decided to shock the hell out of a bloke you go all the way. I don’t have to worry about Harry finding out about this. He wouldn’t believe this if he saw it with his own eyes,” Ron said with a pained laugh. 

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s got into me,” Hermione mumbled in an embarrassed tone. 

 

Ron immediately sobered up and ran a comforting hand through her hair as he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. He pulled up and smiled at her. 

 

“Please don’t be embarrassed. This may be a little. . . a lot shocking, but I love it. It feels so right, doesn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” Hermione sighed as she relaxed against him and his hands sent shivers of pleasure through her as they ran up and down her back, burning her skin through the thin material of her training uniform. 

 

“Will you let me see you, Hermione?” Ron asked thickly after a few moments.

 

Hermione looked at him and felt a sudden fear and shyness that she knew showed on her face. 

 

“I think you’re beautiful. I always have. Please, let me see you,” Ron coaxed as he leaned down to nip and bite at the tender flesh of her throat. 

 

Hermione made a sound that she supposed sounded like an okay. Ron pulled at her shirt, un-tucking it from her trousers, and Hermione held her breath as Ron’s hands stilled their workings. This was so sudden, so surprising. She wanted it, she knew that, but she couldn’t help the feelings of nervousness that were overcoming her. 

 

“Hermione, please relax. I can’t do this if you’re so tense. This is me. You don’t have to be nervous,” Ron sighed as he looked down at her, his hands still gripping the edge of her shirt. Then he smiled, “Do you want to see me?” 

 

Hermione eyes widened and she smiled back. “Yes. . . yes, I do.” 

 

“Well, okay then.” Ron laughed as he pulled his own shirt over his head without a second thought. Then he unbuckled his weapons belt and took that off, laying it with a loud clanging thump on the desk. His hands went to the fastenings on his trousers, and Hermione couldn’t believe he could be so casual about it.

 

“Aren’t you embarrassed?” Hermione asked in wonder. 

 

“Nah. . . I grew up in a house with seven children and one bathroom. Besides, you’ve seen me throw up slugs. . . Seeing me starkers can hardly compare. I’ve long since grown out of being embarrassed around you,” Ron said lightheartedly as he kicked off his shoes and let his trousers fall, unceremoniously kicking them to the side.

 

Hermione felt all her nervousness drift away. He was right. This was Ron. He was her friend. They’d been through so much together. Hermione became acutely aware of Ron standing there smiling at her in nothing but his boxers. He was considerably more muscular than she had imagined. He was slim but firm and toned in a way that Hermione found very appealing. He had freckles over his shoulders and on impulse she reached out and ran a finger over them tracing from one to the other. She felt him shiver slightly under her touch, and Hermione looked at his face. He had stopped smiling, and his eyes had closed. She grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to her. She let her fingers run over his shoulders, which were quite broad. Then ran them down his chest as she reveled in the feel of his warm skin. Ron was passive and let her explore him for several minutes before he opened his eyes and looked at her with a considerably darkened gaze that was burning in desire.

 

“My turn,” he said hoarsely. 

 

Hermione nodded and pulled her shirt over her head. She closed her eyes in fear of what Ron’s response would be. She heard him gasp, and Hermione squeezed her eyes more tightly shut. His breathing was shallow, and her skin tingled as she felt Ron looking at her without actually seeing it for herself. 

 

“Oh God, you’re beautiful. I mean really beautiful. Even more than I imagined,” Ron said in a choked whisper, and Hermione opened her eyes. 

 

His eyes were roaming over her body with an expression that Hermione could only describe as hunger. That look, combined with the heaviness of his voice brought back the driving need that had got her to this point to begin with. She didn’t care that he was seeing her, in fact she had an overwhelming urge to have him see more of her. His response made her feel as beautiful as he claimed she was. It was without fear that she reached behind her and unclasped her bra. Then looked up in an almost mischievous manner as she saw Ron hold his breath in anticipation. 

 

Hermione didn’t move and waited to see what Ron would do. He had never been a patient person, and she knew that. He looked at her expectantly, and Hermione ached an eyebrow at him. It was with a half growl that Ron’s hands rose to her shoulders and slid the straps down her arms. Hermione let her bra drop to the ground then leaned back on her hands as her feet swung back and forth under the desk. She was feeling a keen excitement; her skin itched to be touched by Ron who was standing there almost dumbstruck as he took in the sight of her. 

 

Then he moved closer and raised one hand to her hair and let it trail from behind her neck over her shoulder and down until it cupped her breast causing Hermione’s head fell back of its own violation. She had never guessed that a simple touch could feel so incredibly good. No wonder Ron’s demeanor had changed so rapidly when she touched him. He leaned down to trail kisses over her throat and collarbone. His hands growing bolder as they touched and teased, his rough thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples and causing Hermione’s breath to come in short raged bursts. 

 

Ron pulled up to kiss her again. If she thought his kiss before had been fierce it was noting in comparison to now. His tongue ravished her mouth while his hands continued to touch her, strong and possessive. He was past being gentle and if Hermione was being honest so was she. 

 

Hermione leaned forward to sink her fingers into his fiery hair. Her tongue met his, her breasts crushed against his chest, her hips moved once more in an attempt to still the raging inferno that was building inside of her. The feeling of his skin against hers was addicting. She understood Ron’s frustration now, her seat on the desk just wasn’t giving her the option of getting as close as she’d like. 

 

After some time, Ron tore his lips away from her with a deep breath. Hermione gave a moan of disappointment, but he ignored her as he reached for his weapons belt.

 

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked in confusion. Her brain was barely working. 

 

“I need my wand,” Ron mumbled distractedly as he pulled his wand out of the holster on his belt. 

 

“What on earth for?” 

 

Ron looked at her like she was a complete idiot. 

 

“Hermione, are you on birth control potion?” Ron asked sarcastically. 

 

Hermione sucked in a breath. How could she have been stupid enough to forget something as important as that? 

 

“No,” Hermione said, horrified. 

 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Doesn’t matter, the charm works almost as well.” 

 

“I don’t know that charm,” Hermione said, hardly paying attention to him now. 

 

“I do,” Ron said with a smile as he raised his eyebrows, clearing enjoying the fact that he knew a charm she didn’t. 

 

“How do you know such a charm?” Hermione asked in an appalled voice. 

 

“Don’t get snippy. Bill and Charlie have been beating it into my head since I was old enough to know what it was used for. They spent all summer bugging the twins and me about it. We could quote the bloody thing in our sleep,” Ron laughed, and Hermione relaxed slightly, but was still unsure about having Ron perform such an important charm. 

 

“How do you know it works?” she questioned skeptically. 

 

“I’m not an uncle, so it must work pretty well. I’m sure it’s been tested many times. You don’t know my brothers; randy, the lot of them.” 

 

Hermione nodded her acceptance and closed her eyes in apprehension as Ron performed the charm. He had never been very good at charms. 

 

She felt Ron’s lips on the tender skin behind her ear after a few seconds and opened her eyes. 

 

“I didn’t feel anything.” Hermione laced her fingers into his hair and tilted his head up as her eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

 

“It worked. Stop worrying,” Ron sighed as he leaned back down to run his lips further down her throat. 

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

“Hermione, it worked. You’re not the only one who can do a charm. Do you think I want you to get pregnant? My mum would kill me,” Ron mumbled against the curve of her neck. 

 

“If you’re absolutely sure. . .” Hermione said, though sounding totally unsure. 

 

“Bloody hell, you do try a man’s patience,” Ron growled as he pulled up and wrapped both hands into her short curls and brought her face close to his. “It worked. Now, shut up.” 

 

Hermione’s mouth dropped open in outrage, but he silenced her with a deep, bruising kiss before any sound could escape her. His hands left her hair to grab her hips and pull her hard against him, and this time he ground himself against her in return. Hermione moaned into his mouth and forgot her anger completely. She barely noticed when Ron began to unbutton her training trousers; she was far too lost in other sensations to care. He eased them over her hips and Hermione jerked in genuine shock and surprise as he slid his hand over her smooth stomach and then lower, touching the part of her that had been aching since all this started. She was so thrown off by the action that she didn’t take the time to notice how truly marvelous it felt to be touched so intimately by him.

 

“What are you doing?” Hermione gasped as she broke the kiss to gape at him. 

 

“Shhh. . .Here, lean back a little. You’ll like this, I promise.” Ron murmured against her ear. 

 

Hermione would spend the next two years wondering how she could have been blind enough to miss the fact that Ron obviously knew what he was doing. He was totally self-assured and there was a real good reason why Ron knew what she’d like. 

 

But, at that moment she was far to gone in emotions of love, excitement, and desire to ponder his confidence. His voice was so coaxing that she complied, leaning back on her hands, despite her embarrassment. 

 

“Now, close your eyes,” he whispered in that same smooth voice and Hermione once again complied. 

 

His fingers resumed their exploration of her, and this time she did notice the sensations they were supposed to create. In fact, those sensations hit her with such force that her hips jerked in response, and her head fell back as a desperate moan escaped her.

 

“Does that feel good?” he asked as his fingers continued to torment her. 

 

Hermione didn’t answer, her body so overwhelmed with the throbbing pleasure he was creating that speaking was almost impossible. Ron seemed to sense how much she enjoyed his voice and continued to whisper hoarse statements that both thrilled and shocked her.

 

Hermione had become completely detached from the person she thought she was. Her teeth had to sink painfully into her lower lip to keep from crying out, begging him to ease the ache that was building inside her. His lips ran over her hot skin that was so sensitive, she could feel every kiss, every breath a thousand fold. When she felt his mouth close over a taunt nipple that was thrust outward as she leaned back wantonly against the desk, she gave up trying to keep silent. 

 

By the time the pulsating ache in her had reached a crescendo, her cries echoed off the walls of the dark third floor corridor. Hermione had never realized what a tense person she was until she felt the sensation of having all the tension leave her body in a tidal wave of pleasure. It rocked her very foundation and left her grasping for breath long after the aftershocks of her release had stopped pounding through her. 

 

Hermione was far too weak to hold herself up and fell rather ungracefully against the desk, not even feeling the rough wood against her naked back. She had no idea how much time had gone by before she opened her eyes and looked at Ron who was staring at her looking as utterly flabbergasted as she felt.

 

“That was incredible,” Ron said finally as he shook his head in shock. 

 

“Yes, it was,” Hermione whispered with a small smile as she let her eyes close again. 

 

“Hermione, I can’t even begin to describe how much that turned me on,” Ron mumbled against the valley of her breasts as he leaned over her to place moist kisses against her flesh now shimmering in sweat. “I’m sorry, I know we’re in a terrible place for this, but I swear, if I don’t have you right now I’ll never make it.” 

 

Hermione had almost forgotten that they weren’t done. Ron seemed near desperation, and Hermione was more than happy to comply. She had never felt anything more incredible; it was only fair to return the favor. She kicked her shoes off as Ron frantically tugged her trousers all the way off and tossed them aside. He allowed himself a moment to look at her naked and spread out over the desk as her legs dangled off the edge of it. She smiled up at him, as a plethora of emotions showed plainly on his face. 

 

It only took one step from him to move between her legs once more. Hermione’s inhibitions had long since disappeared, and she moved a little to give him more room. His hands ran slowly up her thighs as she looked at him with total trust. Ron eyes were the deepest cobalt blue, but a flash of uncertainty crossed his set features. 

 

“It’s going to hurt,” he said softly. 

 

“It’s okay. . . I want this,” Hermione said reassuringly. 

 

Ron nodded and pulled his boxers off in the same flippant manner that he had removed the rest of his clothes. She found his lack of modesty appealing. It showed how self-assured he was becoming with himself. Hermione couldn’t help but lean up on her elbows to look at him, she had never seen a completely naked man before, and she was very curious. She stared at him for a long while, unaware of his smile of amusement. 

 

“Are you done ogling me, Miss Granger?” Ron asked with a raised eyebrow. 

 

Hermione looked up then and smiled back. She couldn’t help her nature. She hadn’t become top student in her year without being curious. 

 

“I think you’ve spent a fair amount of time ogling me, turn about is fair play,” she said with a small laugh. 

 

“Bold little witch aren’t you? Do I meet your standards?” 

 

“Is it supposed to be that big?” Hermione asked seriously as she tilted her head and analyzed him again. 

 

Ron laughed and leaned down to kiss her. She ran her fingers through his hair and let herself enjoy his mouth on hers for a second before he pulled away. 

 

“You do give the strangest compliments,” Ron said, the mirth still laced in his voice. 

 

“Was that a compliment?” Hermione asked only slightly bemused. 

 

“Hmmm. . . You’ll have to let me know because I’m about over being a research project. I believe we were in the middle of something,” he breathed against her neck. 

 

He let his hand drift back down and touched again. Hermione moaned and fell onto her back, forgetting the novelty of seeing a naked and aroused man for the first time. She felt the embers of desire build in her, and soon she was arching her hips against his hand, mindless once more. She was thoroughly disappointed when he stopped and didn’t hesitate to voice her complaint. 

 

“I’ll make it up to you, but I’m at my limit. You sound too bloody good,” Ron said in heavy voice. 

 

He was tall enough to lean over her, kissing her deeply while she lay on the desk, which was rather high off the ground. She gasped softly against his lips as she felt him press against her, then inside her. He wouldn’t let her break the kiss, as one hand held her head, fingers lacing into her hair, and the other wrapped around her waist stilling her instinctual need to move upwards, against him. The sensation of being joined with Ron was overwhelming; it totally eclipsed anything she had experienced thus far. Hermione let out a moan of frustration when he reached the point where he had to stop his movements deeper inside of her. Ron lifted his head and Hermione could feel him staring down at her. She gripped his shoulders in her desperation, trying to pull him closer to her. She could feel something close to defeat flow over him as he leaned back down, his breath hot against her ear. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Love,” he whispered in a sorrowful voice. 

 

Hermione didn’t have time to register what his words meant before she felt a white hot pain shoot through her as Ron moved once more, breaking the last barrier that stood between them. She couldn’t help the cry of pain that escaped her before she bit down hard on her lip, determined to keep the knowledge of how much he’d just hurt her from him. 

 

“Are you okay? I’m. . . God, I’m sorry,” Ron questioned, his voice shaking violently as he spoke. 

 

Hermione nodded and opened her eyes to gaze at him. Ron looked utterly tortured, and she knew it was for more than one reason. It was obvious that it was taking every ounce of self-control Ron had, to remain still and patient as she tried to adjust to him and recover slightly. In a way it looked like he was suffering more than she was. Hermione cared for Ron too much to let him suffer. He had enough of that for one lifetime. It was the purest forms of love, trust and friendship that allowed her to move herself against him, soothing his guilt the only way she knew how. Ron sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut. 

 

“Oh, shit. . . Hermione, please don’t do that unless. . . unless you're ready,” Ron gasped in a deep rumbling voice that soothed Hermione’s aching body far more than anything else could. 

 

“Watch your mouth,” she whispered automatically, and Ron looked at her through half opened eyelids, as his body shook with a barely audible laugh.

 

“Only you . . . would think to lecture me at a time like this,” Ron rasped as he captured her lips and showed her just how much she was affecting him. She could taste the desire in his powerful kiss, and Hermione felt most of the pain fade away. 

 

She knew he could sense it, and he began to move slowly within her. The throbbing pleasure that overcame her, covered up the last remnants of pain almost instantly. 

 

“Oh, Ron. . .” Hermione sighed in wonder as her eyes closed, and she wrapped her legs around him in an attempt to bring him deeper within her. 

 

As they would spend the next two years discovering, neither one of them were gentle, shy or fearful people. They were future warriors and so well suited as lovers and friends that nothing, no amount of heartache, could stop the wave of desire that flowed between them, when their pride allowed them the joy of being together. This time was no exception. It was the first in a long journey of discovery. 

 

As Ron’s movements became strong and powerful, revealing the passionate person he was, Hermione lost herself completely. It wasn’t long before she was moving with him, her nails sinking sharply into his back, headless of the pain it must have caused him, not that he appeared to notice. 

 

As a release threatened to slam into her once more, Hermione surrendered herself to the moment, allowing herself the freedom of being someone she was only now discovering she was, and was left breathless and shaking because of it. Ron followed suit shortly afterwards giving Hermione the opportunity to up look at him as his body shuddered violently and his hoarse cries of pleasure reached her ears making her shiver in peaceful oblivion. By the time he collapsed on top of her, his head laying against her chest, they were both so spent that it seemed it would take hours before they’d have enough energy to return to the common room. 

 

Their ragged breaths were the only sound in the corridor for a long time. Hermione was almost half asleep when Ron raised himself up on his hands and looked down at her as she continued to drift on the wake of their lovemaking, unwilling to blink awake and end the peaceful feelings of security that surrounded her. 

 

“Look at me,” he said, and Hermione’s eyelids fluttered open reluctantly. 

 

“That was lovely,” Hermione sighed as she reached up and caressed his cheek. 

 

“Not the word I would have used. . .But, yeah it was.” Ron grinned and kissed her briefly. 

 

“I’m so glad that we could share our first time together. . .aren’t you?” 

 

Hermione’s eyes closed again, and she missed the look of uncertainty on Ron’s face. . .all she heard was his strained answer. 

 

“Yes, who better than you, Hermione?” 

 

Love can make people do funny things. . . Not hearing deceit in the voice of a boy you’d been best friends with for over four years was one of them. 

 

A/N: Okay… Well, that was a long time in coming! Not my fault! Sorry anyway, though. I hope it was worth the wait. 

 

PLEASE REVIEW! I have been going through review withdrawal over the past MANY days that fanfiction.net has been down. Plus, I took over two weeks to write this chapter. So it would mean a lot to me to know if someone enjoyed all my hard work. 

 

For those of you who’d like a sneak peek of what’s going to happen next… Please turn to chapter 4 of your War and Passion textbooks…… I think you’ll get a little idea of what’s coming for Ron and Hermione in the next few days.


	4. Misunderstandings and Mistakes

Even years later, Ron couldn’t recall exactly how he’d made it to bed after what had happened in the third floor corridor, tossing some worthless excuse at Harry before his head hit his pillow and sinking into the deepest sleep of his life. He’d been surviving off little to no sleep for weeks. The only rest he had managed to get was alcohol-induced and brought a hangover with it the next morning.

 

Hermione had enchanted him and for one night he didn’t jerk awake covered in sweat, trying to remind himself that it was only a nightmare, the pain wasn’t real, the screams were only a dream. Instead, his night was filled with the images and sounds of Hermione caught up in passion, flushed and beautiful, looking more like a goddess than he had ever imagined she could. They didn’t have practice on Sunday, so he slept in. It was well past morning when Harry shook him awake.

 

“You okay, mate?” Harry asked when Ron tried to blink awake, squinting against the bright afternoon sun that filtered into their room.

 

“I was,” Ron mumbled and rolled over, pulling the blanket with him, hoping Harry would disappear.

 

“It’s past noon. You missed breakfast and lunch.”

 

“I’ll go to the kitchens later,” Ron said, his eyes drifting closed, the memory of a naked Hermione lying on a scratched old desk drawing him back into blissful oblivion.

 

“Ron,” Harry snapped, obviously sensing that he’d fallen back to sleep.

 

“Will you please fuck off?” Ron rasped.

 

“No, it’s late and Hermione’s been jumpy all day. She’s driving me mad, glancing up the boys' staircase every five seconds,” Harry said in annoyance as he dropped onto his own bed, lacing his hands behind his head. “Did you two have a fight?”

 

Ron had been half listening to Harry; the mention of Hermione only brought her into sharper focus behind his closed eyelids. He was almost back to sleep when Harry’s words sank into his sleep-muddled mind. He rolled over and made a valid attempt to look at Harry despite the brightness.

 

“Did she seem upset?”

 

“A little,” Harry said, looking up to the ceiling, not seeming overly concerned. Hermione being upset with Ron wasn’t a strange occurrence.

 

“Damn,” Ron sighed, tossing back the blankets and getting up, cad in nothing but his boxers. “How upset is she?”

 

“I don’t know. She looked upset. She’s been reading the same page of her medical book for the past hour and a half. Why? What did you do?”

 

“I was a prat.”

 

“And that’s different, how?”

 

“Fuck you,” Ron snapped as he pulled on a pair of Muggle jeans he liked to wear on the weekend.

 

“I rest my case.”

 

“You really are a great annoying git,” Ron muttered as he slipped a black shirt over his head.

 

“I try.”

 

Ron left Harry lying on his bed and headed towards the common room. He scanned the common room, spotting Hermione in the corner, a large book in her lap, seeming to try and blend into the scenery. She glanced towards the staircase, then immediately looked down at her book when she saw him, and even from a distance he could see her blush of embarrassment.

 

The common room was packed, busting at the seams with Gryffindors, including three of his siblings. Not the perfect place to talk, especially with what he and Hermione needed to talk about. The twins would never let him hear the end of it if they caught wind of his problems. He walked up to her, deciding to ignore the look of humiliation she was giving him. He wanted the problem solved, quickly; he didn’t want his friendship with her put at risk for a good shag, an incredible one, really, but it still wasn’t worth the risk. 

 

“Come with me. We need to talk,” Ron said, grabbing Hermione’s hand, dragging her reluctantly to her feet.

 

“Ron, I have work to do,” she protested, pulling away.

 

“Why do you always have to fight me? Just give me a few minutes. I’m sure you won’t fall too far behind,” Ron sighed, taking her hand again and dragging her out of the common room, her shock at his abruptness seeming to make her more agreeable.

 

“And what about Harry?”

 

“What about him? He’s lost in his own world or haven’t you noticed? He’s upstairs sulking over my sister and will probably stay up there the rest of the day.”

 

“That’s not nice, Ron.”

 

“It’s true though. He’s been crying over her for weeks now. He needs to get over it.”

 

“He’s in love . . . It’s not so easy.”

 

“Oh and how would you know? Are you in love?” Ron asked as he stopped in the hallway, thinking bitterly of Victor Krum, a pain in his chest increasing in intensity for some unknown reason.

 

Hermione blinked at him and seemed to be on the verge of tears, shaking her head. “No, I’m not in love.”

 

“Well good,” Ron said in relief. He’d hate to have to kill Krum. He didn’t fancy spending the rest of his days in Azkaban.

 

They both continued walking silently, their feet falling heavily against the stone floors of the castle as if echoing the weight that the two of them were carrying on their shoulders. Ron was sure that she was furious at him for last night and he wanted to get her as far away from prying eyes as possible before they discussed it.

 

He pulled open the door to the third floor corridor with more strength than necessary, creating an echoing crash down the hallway when the heavy door hit the wall. He stepped in and was about to close the door when he noticed Hermione was still standing outside looking at him apprehensively.

 

“Why are we here?” Hermione asked, her voice full of accusation.

 

“To talk. . . It’s quiet here. No one will bother us.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Ron ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Jesus, Hermione will you just get in here? I’m not going to molest you.”

 

She stepped in and he shut the door, setting a locking and silencing spell on it, noting Hermione’s arched eyebrow.

 

“In case Harry or Sirius come up here. . . I don’t want them to hear the reason you’re hacked off with me.”

 

“I’m not hacked off with you,” Hermione said, rolling the word ‘hacked’ over her tongue like it was foreign, giving Ron the impression that she was trying to sink to his level.

 

“Right! Yesterday you were one of my best friends and today you’re treating me like a rapist.”

 

“I was not. . . “

 

“You were. You don’t trust me,” Ron sighed, the hurt sounding in his voice more than he would have liked.

“Really it’s not you that I don’t trust,” Hermione said quickly as she reached out to him then seemed to think better of it and jerked her hand back. “It’s me. I was the one who was forward last night.”

 

Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise. He knew Hermione was upset, he’d just assumed it was him she was disappointed in. Now, he saw the insecurity and shame on her face and realized her feelings were those of self-loathing. He found that rather insulting to say the least.

 

“So, you regret it? You regret sleeping with me?” Ron snapped, turning away to walk over to an old chair that he dusted off violently, taking his hurt out on the padded chair.

 

“It wasn’t very responsible. We're young,“ Hermione hedged.

 

“Right, heaven forbid perfect Hermione Granger do something irresponsible.”

 

“You don’t regret it?” Hermione asked, as she walked up behind him.

 

“No. . . Well, now I do, seeing as you’re so put out about it. I’m sorry to have tainted you. Don’t worry, Hermione, I won’t tell anyone you’ve sunk so low as to shag me,” Ron barked, falling into the chair, causing a cloud of dust to billow up around him despite his previous attempt to clean the chair.

 

“You don’t understand,” Hermione said.

 

“I guess I’m a bit dim, then. You can add that to your list of my failings.”

 

“Ron, stop, you’re acting childish,” Hermione scolded, putting her hands on her hips, and looking down at him.

 

Ron’s narrowed his eyes at her, seething in anger, the pain in his heart making him feel irrational. Before he knew what he was doing he had grabbed her hand, pulling her down until her face was level with his. . . And he kissed her, hard.

 

Hermione shoved against his shoulders at first, but seemed to melt into him after a second, her fingers snaking around his neck as her lips parted, inviting him to deepen the kiss. He had meant to push her away, to make a point that he wasn’t a child, that she still wanted him, but he got sidetracked as his tongue moved past her parted lips to explore her mouth, losing himself in the taste of her.

 

Hermione’s fingers ran teasingly over the fine hairs on the back of his neck, causing tiny shivers to run through him. He was still hurt, more than he’d care to admit, but somehow it had faded to the background, hiding behind the hazy mist of desire that he had accidentally brought up around them. Some part of his mind was aware that doing this again, so soon, when the first time had caused pain for both of them, wasn’t too bright, but he didn’t care.

 

He moved his lips down to the curve of her neck, grazing the skin with his teeth and tongue, loving the smell of her lavender shampoo that assailed his senses.

 

“Ron.”

 

Hermione moaned softly, just a breath of a sound as she tilted her head to the side, giving him free rein over her fresh, and it undid him completely. There was something about the way his name rolled off her lips so effortlessly, like she’d been born to say it, that made him lose all sense of sanity.

 

Ron slipped his hands to her waist, pulling her on to his lap. Hermione seemed to hesitate for a moment, opening her eyes to look at him, deep cinnamon eyes searching his cobalt blue ones, looking for some answer when he didn’t even know the question. Finally her shoulders slumped and Ron would have asked why, if her mouth hadn’t descended on his, if her hands hadn’t sunk into his hair, if her body hadn’t arched into his, clearing everything but deep-seated lust from him mind.

 

They were both driven, and their clothes ended up on the floor rather quickly. Their hands brushed as they each sought to explore the other's body, seeking out the places that had been left undiscovered the night before. Ron almost came undone when Hermione’s small hand wrapped around his arousal, her hot breath against his ear asking him to show her how to touch him. He did, but not for long, Hermione was far too fast a learner and everything was still so new, so incredibly exciting. . .

 

Then he was sliding into her, looking at her flushed face as she moved over him. Hermione had winced when he had first entered her, but seemed to forget it when the rush of passion that encompassed them despite the few awkward seconds it took for her to get used to being over him. He could have stayed in her forever, but the sensation of Hermione on top of him, moving as he guided her hips with his hands, was too overwhelming. When Ron heard Hermione climax he opened his eyes to watch her throw her head back in abandon as low moans escaped her. He came violently then, his own head whipped back against the chair and his eyes squeezed shut against the pounding pleasure she dragged out of him, leaving him shaking in shock at the sheer intensity of everything.

 

He wasn’t sleepy; he’d got more than his fair share of sleep the night before, so he just relaxed against the chair, listening to Hermione’s breathing fall into a steady rhythm, running his hand through her short hair, enjoying the feel of her silky curls against his rough palm. It took a while for him to work out that Hermione had actually fallen asleep. It was obvious that she hadn’t slept much the night before. His heart constricted, it killed him that she had probably spent the whole night upset about what they’d done. But, she’d willingly made love to him again, leaving him even more confused than he had been.

 

He let her sleep for a short while, but the thought of Harry coming to look for them, or worse, looking at his map and discovering the two of them together, caused him to wake her, saying her name softly while he let his hands travel over her naked back. Hermione lifted her head off his shoulder to blink awake, blushing becomingly when she moved and realized he was still in her, and half hard at that.

 

He would have been more than glad to make love to her all day, but he did notice the flash of pain that crossed her features before she dropped her head back against his chest.

 

“I hurt you,” Ron sighed, not as question but as a statement in fact.

 

Hermione shook her head, and seemed to bury her face against his shoulder. “Not too much. . .”

 

“I don’t want to hurt you at all,” he said, moving to get up, lifting Hermione off him and setting her on the chair as he went to gather his clothing.

 

Ron was in the process of picking up Hermione’s clothes too, when he noticed her curled into the chair, naked, her head resting on the arm of the chair, looking at him. He couldn’t help but smile. She was a fantasy come to life, looking like a sprite with her curly hair mused and sticking up at all angles.

 

“Where do we go from here?” Hermione asked quietly, still staring at him intently.

 

Ron sighed, letting the clothes drop from his hands as he kneeled down in front of her. “I don’t know. . . Honestly, I don’t.”

 

Hermione reached out to brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead. Her fingers lingered in his hair for a second before they dropped down to his lips, running lightly over them, causing him to shiver.

 

“Do you care for me, Ron?”

 

Ron couldn’t hide the shocked look on his face at Hermione’s hesitant question.

 

“More than anything. You shouldn’t even have to ask,” Ron choked, the feelings of hurt that he’d ignored before dragging themselves to the surface.

 

Hermione nodded. “Then it’s okay, right? This is all okay.”

 

“Is that what all this was about? You were worried I don’t care for you?” he asked incredulously.

 

“I’m sorry. . . It’s just that you’ve changed and all this has happened so fast. And I thought. . .”

 

Ron threw his hands up in defeat, reaching out to her and leaning his forehead against hers. “Look, let’s just let it go, okay. Now you know I do care for you and I know that you don’t regret it. . . You don’t, do you?”

 

Hermione pulled up to look at him, smiling slightly. “No, I don’t.”

 

“Well good. . . So, let’s get dressed and get out of here before Harry decides to start searching for us,” Ron said as he reached for his clothes again.

 

 

~*~

 

 

As upset as he’d been before, was just about as elated as Ron felt for the rest of the day. He and Hermione had managed to drag Harry out of hiding with the excuse that they had piles of work to complete, which unfortunately, was more than true.

 

They sat in the farthest corner of the common room, working until the whole place was almost empty and the candles had been flickering in the darkness for hours. Ron was almost crossed eyed with all the information he was trying to get his brain to absorb. The thrill of being able to work with the most advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts books, many of which were pulled from the restricted section, had long since worn off.

 

Still, Ron remained in good spirits. He enjoyed working with his friends, exchanging knowing glances with Hermione when Harry was distracted. He wasn’t so callous to not appreciate the simple pleasure of being in presence of friends. He had literally watched his life flash before his eyes at one moment when that Death Eater had held a knife to his throat; he remembered enough of it to know that he would miss the little things in life the most.

 

The only damper on the whole evening was Harry who was miserable, being even more snappy and short-tempered than Ron could manage on his worst days. It didn’t help that Ron truly couldn’t understand Harry’s continuous bout with melancholy over Ginny of all people. After several hours of Harry’s bad attitude he had started fantasizing about Harry receiving a sharp blow to the head and waking up in the hospital wing cured of his Ginny-addiction.

 

Hermione was far more charitable with him, ignoring his snide comments and trying to bring up mundane subjects when Harry’s gaze seemed to drift off into nothingness.

 

“It’s so unusual to see you without your glasses,” Hermione said as she looked up from the notes she was taking. Ron looked up too, watching Harry snap out of his trance to glare at Hermione

 

“Well, it’s pretty unusual to see you with no hair.”

 

Ron felt all the hairs on the back of his neck raise in defensiveness. He knew Hermione was still somewhat self-conscious about her hair, and Harry making such a rude comment went far beyond sulking in Ron’s opinion. He reached out and smacked the back of Harry’s head in retaliation, mentally congratulating himself for not punching him.

 

“Oy, Harry, what’s your problem? Her hair looks nice,” he said as Harry rubbed his head.

 

“Thank you, Ron.” Hermione grinned at him then turned back to Harry. "You need to go talk to Ginny. You’re getting unbearable, Harry. Honestly.”

 

“This has nothing to do with her. I’m just sore,” Harry said as he stretched his arm out in front of him.

 

Ron rolled his eyes when he heard the portrait hole open. He turned to watched his sister step determinedly through it and head straight for them. Harry let out a groan and Ron immediately directed all his annoyance at his sister. The last thing any of them needed was her messing things up even more.

 

“Harry, I need to talk to you,” Ginny said as she stopped behind Harry who was looking at his books with more interest than he had all night. 

 

“He’s working Ginny,” Ron said, giving his sister a warning look.

 

“Well, I don’t really care, RON, I need to talk to him. He owes me that.”

 

She was a brat. . . Ron thanked the gods that they'd only given him one sister. He dropped his quill and stood up, looking down at Ginny who glared up at him defiantly.

 

“Go away, Ginny. We’re working!”

 

“Are you his body guard?”

 

“Maybe.” 

 

“Well, Mister Body Guard. The last I remember, Harry doesn’t need you to fight his battles for him.” 

 

Ron almost laughed. She obviously hadn’t noticed just how helpless Harry was when it came to her. As much as he was loath to admit it, in this instance, Harry really wasn’t able to fight his own battles. Ginny would pulverize him, Ron was sure of it.

 

“Ron, let them talk,” Hermione urged from her seat. 

 

“Stay out of this, Hermione,” Ron said in a snap that he regretted immediately when he noticed the hurt expression cross her face. She just didn’t understand how severe the situation was. Harry had to stay away from Ginny. Brat or not, Ron didn’t want her put through the hell he’d experienced.

 

“Look, Ron. How about this? You back off or I’ll tell Mum about what I heard a few Hufflepuff girls talking about in the library yesterday.”

 

Ron had been busy feeling bad about upsetting Hermione when what Ginny had just said sank in. He could physically feel all the color drain from his face, and his heart sank into his stomach. He stared at his sister in shock for a second, before he cast a look at Hermione, hoping that she had somehow missed the implications of Ginny's statement.

 

“What exactly, would the Hufflepuff girls be talking about, Ron?” Hermione asked, glaring at him with an expression of hurt and anger.

 

In that instant everything else seemed to fade into the background. Ron was vaguely aware of Harry dragging Ginny away, and suddenly, it didn’t matter to him. The two of them could go shag for all he cared. He was going to be sick from the feeling of seeing that look on Hermione’s face and knowing that he’d caused it.

 

“I’m sorry,” Ron muttered, shaking himself a little.

 

“What were they saying, Ron?” Hermione asked standing up and folding her arms over her chest, blinking rapidly when her eyes glassed over.

 

“Saying?” he repeated, still trying to fathom how this had happened.

 

“The girls. . . What was it that they were talking about?”

 

“How should I know? I wasn’t there,” Ron said, trying not to think about what Ginny had overheard.

 

Hermione sighed in annoyance and took a step closer to him, her voice a deadly whisper. “What did you do to give them something to talk about?”

 

Ron swallowed then, looking down at Hermione, not wanting to lie to her again, but desperately wishing the truth wasn’t quite so damning.

 

She looked back up at him, obviously reading the guilt on his face. “You snogged one of them, is that it? They were talking about what sort of kisser you were or something of the sort?”

 

“I think the conversation might have been more detailed than that,“ Ron ventured, trying to think of a way to explain everything.

 

“How much more detailed?”

 

“Hermione, you have to understand. . . I had no way of knowing that what happened between us was even possible. . . I would have never. . .”

 

Hermione looked at him then, her brown eyes studying his face, lighting up in recognition, and Ron watched the last little bit of innocence he hadn’t taken from her fade away.

 

“You slept with one of them,” she said in a dull voice.

 

“She approached me right after school started. I don’t plan on seeing her anymore. I wouldn’t have bothered at all if I’d known you were interested.” Ron said in a rush, hoping to make her understand.

 

“So, you just sleep with any girl who approaches you. It doesn’t matter if you care for them, or even know them. . .”

 

“Look, you don’t understand. Blokes just don’t turn down a shag from a pretty girl,” Ron said as though it were obvious.

 

“Well, I guess that explains what happened last night, doesn’t it? Your Hufflepuff friend must have been busy and I approached you.”

 

“Hermione, you know it’s not like that. I already told you I care for you.”

 

“You cared for me enough to lie to me, is that it? How naive I must seem to you. I actually believed that last night and this afternoon were special.”

 

“It was special. . . How does what I did before have anything to do with that?” Ron sighed reaching out to her, only to have Hermione smack his hand before he could reach her.

 

“I may have been dumb and innocent before, but not anymore. Apparently you have other admirers, go use them,“ Hermione said in such a cold voice that Ron had to blink to make sure it was really her talking.

 

“Hermione, I only want you. I didn’t know. . . I swear, if I’d known how incredible. . .”

 

“Spare me,” Hermione said, turning away.

 

Ron grabbed her arm to keep her from walking away and leaving it like this. “I’m sorry I hurt you by sleeping with her. I already promised that it wouldn’t happen again.”

 

“You flatter yourself,” Hermione said, jerking her arm out of his grasp and rounding on him with a look of such fury that he took a step back. “I don’t care who you shag Ron Weasley. . . As a matter a fact, why don’t you go SHAG YOURSELF, since you fancy it so much!” 

 

Ron could only stand there and watch as she turned and ran up the girls’ staircase. Her voice still seemed to echo off the walls, repeating in his head over and over again.

 

He took a deep breath and then turned to his sister and Harry, remembering that they were in the room.

 

“Thanks a lot Ginny. I owe you for that one,” he growled, walking over to where Harry and Ginny sat. His eyes narrowed as he spotted Ginny’s hand lying on Harry’s chest. His previous observation was obviously correct; Ginny definitely seemed to have the upper hand between the two of them.

 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go. It’s nearly midnight, we need to get to bed,” Ron said as he roughly pulled Harry up.

 

“Night,” Harry mumbled with a last long look at Ginny that made Ron want to gag.

 

“Thanks again. . . SIS,” Ron hissed sarcastically as he pushed Harry up the stairs.

 

Once he reached their dormitory, Ron pulled the door open and shoved Harry inside. He was so upset he felt violent. Not that Harry noticed; he was in some sort of daze that Ron was sure he didn’t want to know about.

 

He cursed under his breath when he saw that Dean and Seamus were still up playing exploding snap on Dean’s bed, talking in low tones so as not to wake Neville.

 

“Everything all right?” Seamus asked hesitantly looking back and forth between the two of them.

 

“Never better,“ Ron snapped, throwing opening the lid to his trunk and grabbing the whiskey bottle Charlie had sent him earlier that week to help him and Harry sleep.

 

He ignored the other boys’ looks of shock as he dropped down on Harry’s bed, taking a long drink before handing the bottle to Harry, who seemed to need a drink almost as much as he did. Usually, the two of them were a little more discreet with their drinking, but Ron didn’t care and obviously Harry didn’t either since he took a drink, and then sighed, blinking at Ron, seeming to see him for the first time since leaving Ginny.

 

“I’m in trouble,” Harry said earnestly before taking another swig out of the bottle.

 

“Me too, mate. . . “ Ron breathed, taking the bottle back glancing over his shoulder at Dean and Seamus who looked away in a hurry, pretending to still be playing cards.

 

“Do you want some?” Ron asked holding the bottle out to them, more for shock value than anything else.

 

They both shook their heads. “Where did you get it?” Dean asked.

 

“The Whiskey fairy brought it to me,“ Ron said in a deadpan voice that caused Harry to choke and start laughing.

 

Ron looked back at Harry and started laughing too, ignoring Dean and Seamus who were whispering about the pair of them being slightly mad and something more about the Cruciatus Curse.

 

He reached out and grabbed the curtain, pulling it closed as he leaned back against the post at the foot of Harry’s bed. Everyone had been waiting for weeks for the pair of them to lose it, to come apart at the seams and start crying over their ordeal. The world could go hang as far as Ron was concerned, they didn’t know shit about anything and he felt more bitter than ever. For a brief moment he had thought that maybe he could be normal again, that he could be happy despite everything. The fall hurt twice as badly the second time. He felt old and in pain. . . Light years away from Dean and Seamus a few beds away.

 

And this time he didn’t have anyone to blame but himself.


	5. Friends

Hermione rolled over in bed, squinting in the early morning darkness to look at her clock. She still had a few more minutes to sleep, but it eluded her, as it had for most of the night. Her face hurt from crying, and dully she noted, that her body still ached in the most intimate of ways, reminding her of why she was so incredibly upset to begin with.

 

If she lived to be older than Dumbledore she’d never get over the hurt of Ron’s betrayal. Everything had been a lie. . . Her dignity felt almost as ripped apart as her heart, and that was simply unacceptable. She fully intended to remedy the situation as quickly as possible. If Ron or Harry thought she’d show up for practice red-faced and sullen, they had another thing coming.

 

She rose out of bed determined to face the day with her pride fully intact. They would never know how much she was hurting on the inside. She wasn’t going to hide, and she certainly wasn’t going to be a weepy female who fell apart just because of a little broken heart; she was stronger than that.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Hermione shouldn’t have worried about her impression on the two boys, she mused, as she sat in the stands an hour later watching them struggle to complete their run. She had finished over ten minutes before, but then, she hadn’t been twenty minutes late to the field and received the penalty of ten extra laps either.

 

Both Ron and Harry looked dreadful, their eyes were bloodshot and their movements were sluggish. She had to keep reminding herself that she was mad at the both of them to stop herself from rushing up and feeling their foreheads or insisting that they go see Madam Pomfrey that instant.

 

In all fairness, Harry hadn’t really done anything to her, but he was a male member of the species and seemed to have allied himself with Ron rather firmly. Plus, she’d seen Harry’s head whip around to look at Ron the second Ginny had mentioned the Hufflepuff girl, meaning one thing: Harry knew everything, and obviously condoned it, thus making him almost as much of a pig as Ron, in Hermione’s mind, anyway.

 

She’d been so caught up in her humiliation at everything that she didn’t notice Ron and Harry drop down at the bottom off the stands, far more exhausted than they should have been. It wasn’t until she heard her name spoken in a low tone that she glanced down to see Ron looking up at her expectantly.

 

“Are you going to ignore us all day?” he asked in a same rough voice that unnerved Hermione for some reason.

 

She didn’t respond, but simply got up and walked down the stands, brushing roughly past Harry before she stepped onto the grassy field.

 

“Fantastic Ron. . . She’s hacked off with me, too. I needed that. . .” Harry muttered, rubbing his forehead and glaring at Ron.

 

And that’s the way her whole day went. . . with her ignoring the two of them. Then one day became a week, and she was exhausted as the lonely days continued to pass. She was still in War Mage training with the boys, and ignoring two people whom you’d spent the good part of over four years with, wasn’t easy. She found herself having to constantly bite her tongue to keep from saying things. And it didn’t help that they both looked awful. Ron especially seemed to appear a little sicker every day that went by without the two of them speaking. Harry was tense and stressed, but Ron’s condition seemed much more severe. His whole complexion had become completely pale, with only his freckles adding any sort of color to his face. His eyes had circles under them that got darker with each passing day. He was even slipping in training, having to stop and rest, whereas before, he’d rather have pushed himself till he'd blacked out before admitting weakness.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Hermione was a strong person, but she was also practical, and the more she spent time thinking about everything, the less mad she became at Ron. True, he had lied, but she had made assumptions herself

 

She glanced at the boys who were talking quietly in the corner of the common room, which was almost empty, since it was late. Ron was grinning at something Harry had said, his eyebrows shooting up, as though fully enjoying whatever tale he was hearing, and it made Hermione wonder what exactly the two of them were talking about. Although the estrangement was self-imposed, she hated being out of the loop.

 

For the past three days, since she had started really noticing Ron, she had been trying to work out a way of making up with him, at least until she could find out what was really wrong with him. But pride was a terrible thing, especially when you were as proud as Hermione tended to be.

 

She hadn’t realized that she was looking longingly at the two of them until she felt Ron looking back at her, his blue gaze penetrating her thoughts from across the room. And for once, she didn’t break eye contact, but instead, stared back, looking from Harry who glanced at his watch to Ron, who seemed as miserable as ever.

 

“I’ve got to go,” Harry said, his voice carrying across the room as he stood up and noticed for the first time the two of them staring at each other. He leaned down to say something to Ron, and then headed towards the portrait hole, walking up to her on his way. “See you later, Hermione.”

 

Hermione looked up at Harry, and she realized how horribly unfair she’d been to him over the past many days. “Yes, I’ll see you later.”

 

She had said it softly, but seeing as it was the first words she’d spoken to him in over eleven days, Harry looked at her in surprise. Then, shockingly, he winked and leaned down, giving her a quick peck on the cheek that was very un-Harry like. “We love you, Hermione. Please come back to us.”

 

Hermione nodded, trying to hide the shocked look on her face. “What’s happened to you?”

 

“Ah, I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” he joked, as he looked at his watch again. “I’ve got to go. But let Ron do a little groveling and make up. . . Please, for my sanity. He’s a horrible grouch without you around. I am too, for that matter.”

 

“Are you going to meet, Ginny?” Hermione asked. Only a woman could cause such a drastic change in Harry, who had been miserable since their return to school.

 

She wished she hadn’t, because his lighthearted look faded to a pained one almost instantly. “You know I can’t do that.”

 

Hermione reached out her hand to his, feeling rough calluses that reminded her of Ron’s hands. “It’ll all work out, Harry.”

 

“Hmmm. . . Maybe, one day,” Harry said, sounding very unbelieving. “I’ll see you Hermione. Let him apologize. I know he’s a git, but you know Ron. . . His heart is always in the right place.”

 

Hermione leaned back against the chair after Harry left, her neck was burning from Ron looking at her, but she wasn’t ready to concede to what she wanted deep down inside just yet. Harry’s words were ringing in her ears, a horrible reminder of how true that simple statement was. Ron’s heart was always in the right place in the things that really counted. No one was more loyal, more fiercely protective of the people he cared about than Ron.

 

“Hermione?”

 

Hermione turned around to see Ron leaning against the chair nearest hers, his arms folded over his chest as he looked at her.

 

“Go away, Ron,” Hermione said, and even to her, it sounded half-hearted.

 

“You can’t ignore me forever,” he said, dropping down into the chair and running a hand through his hair, then rubbing his eyes in the way only someone who was truly exhausted could.

 

“You look terrible,” Hermione sighed in defeat.

 

“Thanks, that makes me feel better,” he laughed bitterly. “But, at least you’re talking to me, even if it is to throw insults at me.”

 

“I wasn’t saying it as an insult. . . I’m. . . I’m concerned. You look sick,” Hermione went on; her pride disappearing as she took in Ron’s tired features, starved for the sight of him this close.

 

“I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping,” Ron mumbled, his voice shaking slightly.

 

“Oh, Ron.”

 

Hermione gave into temptation then, moving to get on her knees in front of him, her fingers reached out and ran over his cheek that was rough from not shaving. She felt a jolt of desire at that knowledge, having not been aware that he needed to shave to begin with.

 

“I’m so sorry, Hermione. Please just say you’ll be my friend again. I don’t care about the rest of it, but I need you as my friend. I can’t live without that.”

 

Ron voice was so raw, so incredibly sincere, that she couldn’t possibly refuse. She nodded, and Ron let out a huge sigh of relief, his own hands reaching out to cup her face as he let his forehead fall against hers.

 

“I’ve missed you. God, I’ve missed you so much,” Ron mumbled as one hand drifted to her hair, running through her curls, causing a small shiver to flow through her.

 

Ron obviously wasn’t that tired because he picked up on Hermione’s shudder immediately, his hand stilling it movements as he lifted his head and looked at her, searching her eyes with his.

 

“I’ve got to go to bed,” Hermione said quickly, but was rooted in her spot.

 

Ron nodded, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, me too.”

 

“Will you be okay?” Hermione asked as she stood reluctantly, and even that seemed not to go unnoticed by Ron, whose eyes narrowed slightly, contemplating her.

 

“I think so,” he said, not moving as she retreated for the stairs.

 

Hermione walked up the staircase without looking back. She quickly got dressed for bed in the dark; her roommates had long since gone to sleep and she was thankful. She didn’t understand how Ron could have such an effect on her, so easily. It was one thing to forgive him, it was quite another to fall into his arms, in the common room no less. If she didn’t know better she’d almost say that he had cast some sort of spell over her. With the flip of a coin, she was lost to him, and it was unnerving.

 

She lay in bed for a good while, willing her heart to stop beating, trying to force down the urge to get up and search him out, to soothe him, to let him soothe her. Her mind replaying over and over again the erotic images of being with Ron, making her body respond to his memory.

 

She almost leaped out of bed when the door to her room opened. The desire she was feeling quenched itself immediately. She reached for her wand and peered out her curtain hangings, half expecting to see the dark cloak of a Death Eater, the attack on Diagon Alley still fresh in her mind. Except, there was no cloaked figure, there wasn’t anyone. She squinted in the darkness, certain she had heard the door open and close, hoping that she wasn’t losing her grip on reality.

 

A scream got trapped in her throat when a hand covered her mouth. . . a very large calloused hand.

 

“It’s me,” Ron whispered frantically. 

 

“I know that. . . I know what your hands feel like,” Hermione hissed back when he removed his hand, torn between relief at the intruder being Ron in Harry’s invisibility cloak, and horror that he had sneaked into the girls’ dormitory. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I needed to see you. I felt like it was unfinished. Budge up, will you? I don’t want to get caught,” Ron whispered, pulling back her curtains and crawling onto her bed, giving her a peek of a freckled arm once or twice as he did.

 

Once the curtains were around them, Ron pulled the cloak off, and cast a silencing spell over her bed. Hermione didn’t trust him with the barrier spell, since he’d been having trouble with it in training, so she set that one herself before she rounded on him in fury.

 

“Ron! What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just come up to my room whenever you feel like it. Are you mad?”

 

“Maybe,” Ron shrugged, glancing down to her bare legs, since she had only donned her flannel nightshirt.

 

“I said I forgive you. What else was there to say?” Hermione said, tucking her legs under herself.

 

“Not you. . . Me! I don’t forgive me. It makes me feel sick. I’m physically sick every time I look at you.”

 

“Oh thank you. . . That’s really flattering. I’m so glad you sneaked up here in the middle of the night to tell me that.”

 

Ron rubbed his eyes wearily. “Argh, no. . . That’s not what I meant. . . Well, it is what I meant, but not like that. I just. . . I just can’t stand that I hurt you. I need to make it better.”

 

“Some things you can’t just make better, Ron. It’s going to take time,” Hermione said, trying to ignore the charge in the air, the energy that seemed to be radiating off him.

 

“I want to make it up to you,” Ron said, reaching out to touch her cheek.

 

Hermione jerked away almost instantly, wide eyed as she looked at him. He couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he did.

 

“You need to go to bed, Ron. I think the lack of sleep is making you a bit shotty,” Hermione said slowly.

 

“I’m not shotty,” Ron said as he ran hand down her throat, his warm fingers gliding over her pulse point, sending the most wonderful feeling of relaxation and comfort through her. “Let me make it up to you,“ he urged again, his breath warm against her ear.

 

“Okay,” Hermione breathed softly, shocking herself beyond words.

 

In a hazy part of her mind, she reasoned that this was far too simple for Ron. But, then, Hermione felt his lips, warm and comforting against her neck, his hands running up her arms, sending tingling sensations with it, and her thoughts faded as she lay back against her pillow. For some reason, she knew that Ron really had no other intention than to make her feel better, to ease the pain he had caused, and somehow that made it okay. 

 

Ron’s fingers undid each of the buttons on her nightshirt, his lips following the trail of revealed flesh, as the shirt slid open. Her skin was already sensitive and she hated the brush of his cotton shirt instead of the warm feel of his naked chest. Then, almost as if on cue, Ron stopped to reach behind his neck, pulling the white shirt over his head in one fluid motion, before his head dipped down to run his tongue over the smooth plain of her stomach.

 

He was whispering words against her skin, slightly disjointed phrases, saying how much he’d missed her, how sorry he was, how beautiful he thought she looked. . . Over and over again, sometimes repeating the same thing three or four times, and every word was desperate and so sincere, as though he was pouring out his own heartache while trying to ease hers. And even as incredible as she felt, it broke her heart that Ron had been in that much pain.

 

She reached down, lacing her fingers though his hair and lifted his head to look at her. “Come here,” she urged tugging lightly on his red hair until his face was hovering over hers. “It’s okay. It’s over. . . I’m not mad at you.”

 

Ron looked at her for a second. His eyes were like sapphires in the near darkness, sparkling with unshed tears. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

 

“I know you are. I should have never let something as stupid as this get between our friendship. Never again, okay. . . We won’t ever let that happen again.”

 

Ron nodded. “It’s not that important.”

 

“That’s right. We are all that matter. . . Our friendship is all that matters,” Hermione said, running her hands down to cup his face.

 

He looked at her, tracing a finger across her collarbone. “I’d die for you.”

 

“I know. . . I’d die for you too.”

 

Lately, words like that weren’t spoken lightly, by either of them, and a stillness hung in the air afterwards. Then, Ron’s lips claimed hers. Hermione’s tongue reached out to brush against his, and they both moaned, shivering, praying that the day wouldn’t come when they’d have to put their promise to the test.

 

Their lovemaking was different than before. They did things that night that Hermione had never even dreamed of. And it was strangely comforting, they were each reaching for something that could be just between them.

 

Ron had brought her to completion not just with his hands, but with his mouth, and though Hermione wanted to protest, she just couldn’t, it felt too wonderful. And so she did the only other thing she could think of. . . She returned the favor. Sliding down his body as he had to her and taking his sex between her lips, feeling totally gratified when his head fell back with a throaty moan and his body jerked in intense pleasure, not even minding the hoarse words that she dragged out of him, most of which were statements she’d scold him for on any other occasion.

 

And then he was begging her to stop, swearing that he couldn’t take anymore, pulling lightly on her hair to get her to release him. She crawled up his body, looking down at his face that seemed so much more alive than it had in the common room a few hours earlier.

 

“We didn’t have to stop. I don’t mind,” Hermione said softly, knowing that he’d tasted her intimately and was oddly curious to know him that way as well. 

 

“I just don’t want it like that right now. I want to be in you. Don’t you want that?” Ron asked hoarsely, running a thumb over her moist lips.

 

As though the temptation was too much, he leaned up and kissed her, his hands tangling in her hair, that was already wild, with curls sticking up at odd angles. He rolled both of them over, and her body remembered him well, that now familiar coiling of desire winding even tighter as he entered her slowly, shaking so much that his head had to fall to her shoulder.

 

“It’s fine,” Hermione rasped, arching her hips against him, knowing that he was afraid of hurting her again. “It feels good.”

 

And it did, it felt wonderful. The other times, there had always been a lingering pain, a slight discomfort, but not anymore, just an incredible feeling of being full, of being connected to him.

 

Ron responded to her movements, and Hermione couldn’t help when her head jerked back against the pillow, moaning in want.

 

“You feel so good,” Ron whispered against her ear, thrusting into her again, seeming to slide in even more deeply.

 

They stayed like that for a long time; sometimes it was fast, sometimes slow, and when it got to be too much, Ron would stop for a moment, kissing her to distract himself.

 

Of course, Hermione didn’t have the need or the desire to hold herself back, and by the time Ron finally gave into his own raging passion, she had already reached her peak twice, and settled herself to whisper words of encouragement to Ron, telling him it was all right to let go as her hands ran over his back and shoulders. He shuddered above her and gave in, moaning her name in a low voice against her ear.

 

When it was over, Ron gather her next to him, her body fitting against his as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

 

“I like the way you smell,” he sighed into the darkness, his voice very low and heavy.

 

“Good to know,” Hermione laughed and tried to turn over, but his arm snaked around her waist holding her in place, her back pressing even more firmly against his chest.

 

“Let’s just stay like this for a little while.”

 

“Ron, you need to get back to your room. Harry will notice that you’re gone,” Hermione sighed, not really wanting to move at all.

 

“He won’t notice. I promise. . .“ he murmured, seeming to fade as he spoke, reminding Hermione of how tired he had been for days now. “Let me stay. You make my nightmares go away, “

 

“I didn’t know you had nightmares,” she said in concern, a deep feeling of guilt sneaking up on her for ignoring him for so long.

 

Hermione waited for a response, but there was none, only Ron’s even breathing in the darkness. He was asleep, so much so that he didn’t even flinch when she turned over in his arms, and studied his face that was relaxed now, looking boyish instead of world-weary.

 

Finally, her own exhaustion caught up with her. She turned over and drifted off to sleep in his arms thinking that he’d used his last little bit of energy to make amends. And he’d succeeded. . . Ron made it better, just like he said he would.

 

 

************************************************************************

 

PLEASE REVIEW!!!!

I live for those things. Make all the hours of hard work worth my while. . .


	6. Accidents

Ron jumped up, his skin feeling the icy February morning, especially since that’s all he was wearing.

“What are you doing? Get back here. . . I’m freezing.”

He turned around to see Hermione pull the blanket more tightly around her while she tried to snuggle more deeply into the makeshift bed they’d made in the third floor corridor.

“This fire died hours ago,” he said while searching through a pile of clothes for his wand. “It’s no wonder we’re freezing our arses-“

“Ron!”

“Off,” Ron finished smugly, ignoring her glare as he held up his wand triumphantly.

He quickly lit the fire and jumped back into the pile of transfigured blankets with Hermione, who squealed and rolled away from him.

“You’re ice cold! Stay away,” Hermione laughed, scooting to the very edge of the cushioning charm she’d set.

Ron reached out and grabbed her waist, pulling her back firmly against him, even though she squirmed halfheartedly, causing him to harden despite having spent most of the night with her making love.

“Maybe it’s your job to warm me up,” he whispered against her ear. “After all, I set that fire for you. I can take the cold.”

Hermione stopped struggling as he let his lips graze over her ear and down her neck, he inhaled the deep lavender scent of her shampoo and sighed, causing her to shudder, he’d never got tired of that smell. She arched her back more deeply into him, tossing her head against his shoulder.

“You're insatiable. All the other girls don’t have this problem,” Hermione breathed, and Ron could hear the smile in her voice.

“What problem?”

“Lavender was just saying that she and Seamus have just one go and he rolls over and goes to sleep. She doesn’t have tell deal with a chronic insomniac keeping her up all night.”

Ron laughed and shifted their position until he had Hermione pinned under him. “You’re kidding? She said that? Wait till I get a hold a Seamus.”

Hermione looked at him in horror. “Ron, you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, yes, I would.”

“That’s something personal between them. And besides, I don’t think they’ve been at it all that long. Maybe, he just needs practice,” Hermione reasoned, shrugging.

“If it’s so personal why’d she tell you about it?”

“I don’t know. I’d be perfectly happy not knowing. But, she and Pavarti stay up to all hours of the night gabbing away about such things. I have to set a silencing spell just to get to sleep.”

“Well, she shouldn’t have blabbed,” Ron said with a grin, that rapidly disappeared when Hermione somehow managed to maneuver away from him and went to get up. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going back to bed. I told you that in confidence. You’d be betraying my trust if you said anything to Seamus,” Hermione said in a semi-hurt voice as she slipped out from under the blanket, shivering at the cold as she went to gather her clothes.

Ron leapt up and went to where she was looking through the clothes, sorting out his from hers in the pile on the ground. She stood up to slip her shirt over her head, obviously trying fight the cold since she didn’t bother with her bra. Ron wrapped one arm completely around her waist and pulled her against his chest,

“I won’t say anything to Seamus. I was only joking.” He leaned down and said in a pleading voice.

“No, you weren’t!”

“Okay, I wasn’t. But, I won’t say anything if it’ll upset you.”

“Do you promise?” Hermione asked as she turned around in his arms and looked up at him.

“Yes, Hermione, I promise,” he said, sounding like a little boy mimicking words to his mum. Then he brightened. “Can I least tell Harry?”

“No! Honestly, do I even want to know half the things you two talk about?”

“Probably not. . . Although, it’s a good thing he’s shagging Cho instead of my sister or I’d have to kill him.”

“Do you ever talk about. . . about me?”

“No! I don’t fancy him trying to maim me,” Ron said, turning to pull her back to the blankets.

“I think we should tell him. I don’t like lying.”

“We’re not lying. We’re just not telling him the whole truth. Besides, that’s between us. What does it have to do with him? He has some high and mighty opinion of you and he thinks I’m out to corrupt you.”

Hermione ached an eyebrow at him, even as she snuggled underneath him, her legs tangling with his. “Aren’t you?”

“Absolutely. . . That’s why I’d rather not tell him,” Ron grinned, then pressed himself more fully against her, and groaned as he watched her head fall back and her eyes close.

“Oh, God, I love. . . this,” she finished lamely, leaving the impression she’d meant to say something else as she opened her eyes to look at him.

Ron looked down at her. They’d been skating around this for months. He knew Hermione was waiting for him to say he loved her. The problem was, he didn’t know if he did, or more importantly, if he should. He really didn’t deserve to be in love with someone like Hermione Granger.

“I love this, too,” he said, and leaned down to run his lips over her jaw line so he didn’t have to see the hurt in her eyes.

But he felt it. . . and it made him feel sick. He actually had to stop and rub his forehead as a distraction against it. He knew he could make it better, but it was only a temporary fix, and they always ended up back at this same spot. Just for once, he almost wanted to just let it go, to feel the pain, even if it meant she’d have to feel it too. But, it seemed it was almost past him to do that. Before he knew it his lips were sliding over her pulse point, his hands were running up the insides of her arms from her wrists all the way upwards making Hermione give a soft moan. And he didn’t feel sick anymore.

 

~*~

 

Several hours later Ron was staring bleary eyed at his breakfast. Of course, that didn’t stop him from eating it. He glanced at Harry sitting next to him, who looked just as tired as he felt.

Every once in a while Harry and Cho actually got away and spent the whole night together, which in turn, freed Ron up to spend the night with Hermione. It just didn’t work any other way. Harry suffered from insomnia just as badly if not worse than Ron, and he’d notice if Ron wasn’t in his bed, even if it was the middle of the night.

“Have fun last night?”

Harry’s head snapped up. “What?”

“You heard me,” Ron said with a smile.

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry shrugged and went back to eating. “We get on really well.”

Ron let Harry go at that. He didn’t like to talk about Cho in public, which Ron couldn’t blame him for. However, Ron did notice Harry gaze drift over to Ginny a few seconds later. He seemed to shake off his thoughts, and turned to Hermione.

“What’s with you, slowcoach?”

Hermione turned to look at Harry, who was sitting next to her. “What do you mean?”

“You look dead tired. You’re not getting sick, are you?” Harry said, peering closer at Hermione.

“Don’t be silly. . . I was just up late studying. I was going over some of the medical books from Madam Pomfrey. I think it’s important to learn all the healing charms, the ones that work without potions. Even though we do carry some healing potions with us. . . You can’t plan for everything.”

“Sorry, I asked,” Harry said, holding up his hand in a defensive position. Then muttered under his breath. ”Bloody waste of time if you ask me.”

“I heard that, Harry. There may very well come a time when you’re happy I know something like that.”

“Okay, okay. . . You’re right. I’m so very happy you’re learning that,” Harry said, turning to Ron and rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, so we don’t have to,” Ron laughed as Hermione turned to glare at him from around Harry.

It was only after a few minutes that Ron realized everything Hermione had said had been a lie. She’d said it so easily even he had started to believe it. It had been truly shocking in the past months to see how great a liar Hermione could be as opposed to him, who was usually left sputtering out excuses, while the tips of his ears turned red.

It was Saturday and they spent most of it catching up on the classes that they'd fallen behind on because of training. Ron seriously missed being able to just sit back and play a game of chess on the weekends. Every once in a while he’d rope Ginny into a game since she wasn’t as busy as Harry and was the only person who ever posed a real challenge to Ron. It was almost like she was reading his mind. And he voiced that suspicion on more than one occasion, but she’d just smile at him and say she’d been practicing.

They spent the whole day working, and even after dinner they were still huddled into their corner of the common room, studying, of all things, the bloody medical lessons from Madam Pomfrey.

“You’re just not applying yourself, Ron.”

Ron rubbed a hand over his face in frustration and tried to remind himself of what Hermione had been like the night before, moaning his name, because at that moment he really wanted to strangle her.

“I am applying myself. I just don’t have the mind for this.”

“You don’t have a problem with all the other lessons. You’re just being lazy. You’d rather I learn it so you don’t have to,” Hermione huffed at him, folding her arms over her chest.

“Exactly, if you know it and love it so much why do Harry and I have to?”

“What if I were the one who was hurt?” Hermione asked smugly.

“Well, we’ll just have to make sure you don’t get hurt, won’t we,” Ron said in a weaker tone. Trying to dismiss the idea of Hermione actually getting seriously injured, since just the mention of it bothered him deeply.

“Oh, how very realistic of you, Ron. And how do you purpose you do that? Anything could happen. . .”

“Okay! Explain the bloody theory to us again. Jesus, I hate when you get like this. Like I don’t have enough problems with nightmares,” Ron grumbled, pulling the book in front of him as he tried to focus on the words that were blurring before his eyes.

Harry arched a questioning eyebrow at him, smirking slightly as he glanced between Ron and Hermione. He might not want Ron to shag Hermione but he sure seemed to find it funny when Ron showed any sort of vulnerability when it came to her.

“Shut up,” he snapped at Harry. “I don’t need any shit from you.”

“Ron! There are still first-years up,” Hermione scolded, glancing around to see if anyone had heard.

Harry choked and started laughing, shrinking back in mock fear when both Ron and Hermione glared at him this time. “Sorry. . . Maybe we’re just to tired for this, Hermione.”

“Yes, we are. I’m about to fall asleep sitting up,” Ron chimed in, happy for an out.

“And why is that again?” Harry asked.

It took everything Ron had not to look at Hermione for help. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Why not?”

Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry, silently saying that he’d obviously been with a girl last night, which wasn’t a lie. He just wouldn’t mention what girl it was. And for some reason, Harry seemed to readily accept that Ron would be willing to shag some nameless girl. It was the only excuse that ever worked when he was caught in a bind.

“Oh, right. . .” Harry said, glancing at Hermione.

Ron was glad he wasn’t with some nameless girl, because if he had been Hermione would already have known about it.

“Maybe, you’re right. I’m tired myself,” Hermione said as she started to gather her books, tossing Ron a smile when Harry wasn’t looking.

All three of them headed to bed somewhat numbly, with Hermione disappearing up to the girls’ dormitory while Harry and Ron trudged up to the boys'. Ron tossed his clothes unceremoniously onto his trunk and fell into bed in nothing but his boxers despite the cool evening. Since he’d started gaining so much weight, he found that he was always warm. He didn’t need any other reason to be tossing and turning at night. Besides, none of his pajamas fit anyway.

Thankfully, Harry was so tired he forgot to ask about what, or rather who had kept Ron up all night and he dropped off to sleep within minutes. Ron was still staring at the darkened ceiling when he heard Harry start to get restless, muttering under his breath as he kicked the sheets off him.

“No, not Ron. . . Please. . .”

Ron sighed and reached for his wand that he kept under his pillow, casting a silencing charm around Harry’s bed. He told himself that it was for the other blokes in the room, it was their rotten luck to get stuck with not one, but now two mates with nightmares. However, if he was honest, he just couldn’t stand hearing it.

Ron was wide-awake now. His body felt tired, but his mind was on fast forward. He knew he needed sleep. He hadn’t had any the night before and the weekends were really his only chance for rest since he had to wake up so early the rest of the week. He tossed for almost an hour before he gave up and searched through his trunk until he found a half empty bottle of whiskey.

He and Harry had decided to give up drinking a few months earlier, largely because hangovers and training didn’t mix. And for the most part Ron had stuck to the pact, not waiting to turn into an alcoholic. But, there were a few nights that he gave into temptation, and this was one of those nights. He pulled on his dressing gown, not wanting to have to get dressed again, and headed down to the common room

It was actually a rather daft thing to do. . . getting smashed in the common room. But he liked looking at the fire; it was relaxing to him. And, though he hated it, most people were willing to give him his vices after what had happened last summer.

He spent a good, long time in front of the fire, watching the flames dance across the logs, allowing the whiskey to temporally wash away his demons, even if it was for the weak. He wasn’t completely pissed, but he was getting there.

He was lying sprawled out on the couch, his feet hanging over the edge of it, half asleep. He nearly jumped out of skin when the portrait opened. Whoever had entered was lucky that Ron’s reflexes where severely dimmed. Ron's wand was in his hand, and lately some pretty nasty hexes had been coming out his mouth. But, as it was, he hid the whiskey behind his back and put away his wand at the same time so the person wouldn’t know that they’d just been a hair's breath away from being sent the hospital wing by a semi-smashed War Mage trainee.

He glanced at the clock over the fireplace, it was half past two. . . Bloody late for anyone to be up. He lifted his head up and peered over the couch to the person trudging towards the boys’ dormitory.

“Seamus!”

The poor bloke jumped about a foot off the ground, turning wide-eyed towards Ron.

“Damn, Ron, you scared the hell out of me,” Seamus said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry, what are you doing up?”

Seamus glanced guilty towards the portrait. “Nothing. . . Was just having a late night stroll with Lavender.”

Ron had had enough to drink to start laughing, but then the image of Hermione, made him bite his tongue. “Right, a stroll. I’m sure that was lovely. Bit late though, isn’t it?”

“You’re one to talk. . .” Seamus snapped.

Ron arched an eyebrow. He’d never seen Seamus so short-tempered before; he was usually easy going. “You okay, mate?”

“Yes, fine. . . I just had a bit of a row with Lavender. I’m going to head up to bed before she comes back.”

“You left her to walk back to the common room by herself? Isn’t that a little dangerous?” Ron asked, feeling a lot more sober.

Hermione was in War Mage training and he wouldn’t let her walk around the castle by herself at two in the morning no matter how hacked off she was at him.

“You’re always so paranoid,” Seamus said, sounding both sheepish and annoyed at the same time. “I’m going to bed.”

Ron let him go, but now he was awake and paranoid, just like Seamus had said. He watched the clock for ten more minutes, then got up, determined to get Harry’s map and fetch Lavender. They weren’t the greatest of friends, but still, Ron wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. He was just pissed off that it was he who was going to find her instead of Seamus.

He walked as silently as could back to his room, and was annoyed to notice that Seamus had already passed out. He wasted no time in getting Harry’s map out of his trunk, knowing that Harry would want him to. If anyone was a fucking hero, it was Harry.

He squinted at the map in the darkness, gagging when he noticed Malfoy and Pansy’s dot in the astronomy tower. Then, in a corner of the charms room, there was Lavender. He cursed under his breath when he noticed that she wasn’t even moving. He tucked the map into the pocket of his dressing gown and took off.

He glanced at the map occasionally, as he dashed towards the charms room. When he got there, he pushed the door open, and narrowed his eyes since all but one of the candles in the room had burnt out.

“Lavender?”

Then he heard rustling, and quiet sniffling. “Ron?”

“Yeah. . . Blimey, hold on. I can’t see a thing.”

He lit a candle near him and the room brightened to a dim rosy glow and he could see Lavender sitting on a pile of cushions in the corner. Her eyes were bloodshot as silent tears continued to roll down her cheeks, but she was looking at him in surprise. She frantically wiped them away, and blinked up at him, looking doe-eyed in her dressing gown and slippers.

“What are you doing here?”

Ron shifted uncomfortably. This whole thing was more Harry’s scene than his, he wasn’t really great at playing the hero. “Right, well, I was in the common room when Seamus came back up. I just wanted to make sure you got back to the tower all right.”

“You were worried about me?” she asked looking even more vulnerable.

“I’d be worried about anyone out by themselves at this time of night,” Ron snapped, backing away slightly, as a wave of nausea swept over him. He didn’t handle crying females well, especially lately.

“But, nothing can happen inside the castle, right?” she asked, seeming to pull out of her sorrow a little.

“I’ve seen lots of things happen in this castle. We should head back,” Ron said, waving his hand towards the door.

But Lavender wasn’t taking the hint, she brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at him again, really looked at him. “You look different.”

“Different from what? I haven’t changed. . .”

“Different from what I imagined,” Lavender admonished, tilting her head slightly.

Ron looked down at himself and realized what she was talking about. . . He was half naked. He had his dressing gown on, but it was tied loosely so most of his chest was revealed. Fuck, he really must be drunk to be walking around the castle practically starkers, and in February no less.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be imagining what I look like then,” Ron said, not bothering to tie the dressing gown any tighter. The damage was done, and in truth, he really didn’t care.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because she started crying, hard, burying her face in her hands. Jesus, was he happy Hermione didn’t do stuff like this. He’d take her harping any day over this.

“Lavender, we should head back. You don’t want to caught out of your dormitory in your dressing gown and to be honest, I don’t either,” he said as he walked towards her, grabbing her hand to help her up since it seemed that she was willing to sit there all night.

It was an extremely bad move on his part. . . He was half pissed and she was obviously extremely upset, because he really and truly was going to be sick now. For some asinine reason, he was overcome with the urge to just make her feel better, and he only knew one way of doing that. He dropped her hand like it was on fire and backed away.

But, something in her had changed.

“Do you think I’m pretty, Ron?”

Ron had been looking at the door, but his head snapped back at her hesitant question. “What?!”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” she repeated, flipping strands of long golden hair behind her.

He had to get out, but if she wanted an ego boost then fine. “Yes, you’re very lovely, Lavender. I’m sure loads of blokes would love to be with you.”

“Except Seamus. . . he broke up with me,” Lavender sighed, then started crying again.

At the moment, Ron really couldn’t blame Seamus. “I’m sure he’ll change his mind.”

“No, he’s seeing someone else. Some bit of fluff from Hufflepuff. . . Hufflepuff, can you believe that?"

“No, I can’t believe it.”

Yes, he could. . . but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Lavender, I’m terribly sorry you’re upset. But really, we need to go,” he said, taking a step back, even as she took moved towards him.

He hadn’t moved fast enough, hadn’t thought to. But, he should have, because Lavender suddenly had her arms wrapped around his neck, her head leaning on his chest as she cried, and he felt a wave a sickness so strong his knees almost buckled under it. This was all wrong, Hermione was the only one who could make him feel like this, and that was usually because he caused whatever was upsetting her to begin with. But, he’d had nothing at all to do with this, yet he was feeling the effect in full force, and he could kill Seamus for it.

He wanted to rip her arms from around his neck, turn and walk out, not looking back, really he did. But, he couldn’t. Because another part of him, the stronger part was urging him to just make it better, all of it, and he knew he could. And he’d stop feeling sick, and she’d stop crying and it’d be okay. . . Except, this wasn’t Hermione.

She was too tall, too soft, her hair was too long, and far too blonde, and she just wasn’t Hermione. . . But, it didn’t matter. He was fighting an instinct that seemed to run into his very bones. And even though the part of him that still held onto some semblance of sanity was screaming at him. He let his hands drift into her hair, then down her neck, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt her starting to relax in his arms, the tension flowing from her body.

“Ron?” she questioned, her eyes full of wonder as she looked up at him.

“Do you want me to make it better?” he sighed in defeat.

“Can you?”

He didn’t answer her, instead he leaned down and captured her lips with his. Her head dropped back as he ran his lips over her neck, stopping to suck lightly at her pulse point and she shuddered, the pain fell out of her, just like it always did with Hermione. . . Except, this wasn’t Hermione and he knew it.

 

~*~

 

The first signs of morning had been visible through the frost-covered windows when he finally accomplished what he'd set out to do hours earlier: he got Lavender back to the tower safe and unharmed.

Neither one of them seemed to know what to say. . . And so he’d left Lavender in the common room, telling himself he’d deal with it sometime during the day.

At nearly six on a Sunday morning, the boys’ shower was always empty. So, that’s where Ron ended up, practically trying to drown himself. He just rested his hands on the wall and hung his head, willing the burning hot water to wash away his sins.

He didn’t think he’d drunk that much, but obviously he had, because he’d done something he sworn he’d never do. . . He'd cheated on Hermione. Oh god, he'd never wanted to die as much as he did at that moment and that was saying something, considering he’d prayed for death for hours when he’d been kidnapped.

He replayed everything over and over again in his mind and he just couldn’t understand where the weakness had come from. He wasn’t even that attracted to Lavender.

He didn’t know how long he’d been in there when he heard someone else enter. He just figured they were going to the loo, so he stayed where he was.

“Blimey, how long have you been in here?”

Damn it! As if he wasn’t having a hard enough time that was the last voice he wanted to hear. . .well, one of two.

“Fuck off, Fred.”

“Now, is that anyway to talk to your favorite brother?” Fred asked while pulling a pack of Muggle cigarettes from his pocket and sitting on the bench.

“You wish. . . You’re way down on the list. And I thought you gave those up. Hermione said they’re really bad for you,” Ron said, frowning as he turned his head to see Fred light a cigarette with his wand.

“You know, I did. But, for some reason I start feeling like I’ll just go mad if I don’t have one. If I didn’t know better I’d say those Muggles put some sort of dark charm on them to keep people buying them. Bloody expensive too. . . “

“That’s really sharp of you,” Ron said, rolling his eyes and turned back to the shower, waiting for Fred to finish his cigarette and go back to bed.

“What’s wrong with you?” Fred asked after a while.

“You’re what’s wrong with me.”

Fred was silent for a few more minutes. “Is it the nightmares? Are they bothering you?”

“No, it’s not the nightmares,” Ron sighed, he knew Fred was at least trying to be sincere. “I’m just having a bad night. . . Well, morning, now.”

“Is it girls?” Fred asked and Ron could hear the smile in his voice. “I could give you advice on that. . . One Weasley to another.”

Ron turned off the water. “Oh yes. . . you’re the one I want advice from. You’re a worse fuck up then I am. How is Angelina, by the way?” he said as he wrapped a towel around his waist and sat next to Fred, using a second towel to dry his hair.

“Ouch! No need to get so fucking personal. I was just trying to be brotherly,” Fred said indignantly.

Ron ran a hand through his wet hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just tired. . . I haven’t slept in days.”

Fred shrugged. “No harm done. . . Go to bed. You do look dead on your feet.“

It wasn’t often that Fred or George gave him an out. . . So, he took it. And surprisingly, he was able to sleep when he finally made it to bed. Apparently, two straight days of not sleeping was enough for anyone, no matter how badly they’d screwed up their life.

 

~*~

 

Harry woke him up a few hours later for breakfast, and wanting to avoid any questions, he got dressed with only the minimum of complaint, something that was made doubly hard when Seamus woke up, since Ron was still trying to suppress the urge to kill him, or at least injure him severely.

He made it through breakfast, barely. He suddenly realized that he probably should have mentioned to Lavender that he was involved with Hermione. If she stayed up nights talking, then Hermione was sure to hear about what had happened and he didn’t want her to find out about it. . . not like that. He wanted to be the one to tell her.

Fortunately, Lavender was nowhere in sight for most of the morning -- even when they returned to the common room there wasn’t a trace of her. But, that was only half his problem. He was forced to be with Hermione and she was in the best of moods. Ron just leaned back in his chair, his mind spinning around and around at how he was going to handle telling her, and the whole while he was listening to her and Harry talking and laughing.

“What’s wrong with you? You look dreadful,” Hermione finally said, turning from Harry to gaze at him, concern etched all over her face.

He was a huge fucking prat, that’s what was wrong with him.

“Nothing. . . I just feel out of sorts. I think I’ll go running,” Ron said, standing up.

“Are you mad? It’s freezing out there and Snuffles hasn’t set any heating charms on the pitch. You’re going to run in the cold?” Hermione gasped at him, standing up as well.

He dodged her hand when she reached out to feel his forehead. “Yeah, I think it will clear my mind.”

“Or freeze it. . ." Harry said, standing up as well. “I’ll go with you.”

“Don’t be daft. I’m capable of taking care of myself and I can handle a little cold.”

“So can I,” Harry smirked, turning to head up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory before Ron could argue with him.

“He always has to be the fucking hero. . . I hate that,” Ron muttered under his breath. Then he turned to Hermione. “We’ll see you in a bit.”

He went to leave, but Hermione grabbed his arm, holding him back. “You seem really upset. You can tell me, you know. You don’t have to keep everything bottled up.”

He wanted to scream at her not to be nice to him. It made everything a thousand times worse. But he just took a deep breath and looked down at her. “I know. We’ll talk later, I promise.”

Hermione nodded, and looked around the common room before she reached up to brush at his hair, sweeping it off his forehead. He turned and left before she could say anything else, and headed to his room to change.

He and Harry had put on their black training clothes, then set heating charms on them to block out some of the cold. If he wasn’t feeling the strong need to punish himself, he would have had Hermione set the heating charms, since hers always worked better and lasted longer.

Harry seemed to have the same thought as he put on a pair of thin black gloves, flexing his fingers, and frowning. But, then he looked at Ron and shrugged, obviously willing to accept it if Ron was.

When they got back down to the common room, Ron groaned in annoyance. There was Hermione, leaning against the couch, dressed for running. He turned to Harry for support, but the prat just jumped down the last steps and put his arm around Hermione.

“Wow, all three of us going running on an off day. Snuffles would be so proud.”

Hermione laughed. “I reckoned I’d go with you. I don’t have anything else to do. I’m all caught up with my work and I can stop by the hospital wing on the way back to pick up a few more things from Madam Pomfrey.”

“Brilliant,” Ron muttered and headed towards the portrait, knowing that Hermione wouldn’t change her mind. She was as stubborn as an old mule.

Ron walked ahead of Harry and Hermione, his long legs carrying him in strides that they obviously didn’t feel like jogging to keep up with. Not that it helped him when he was running, Harry always beat him. Try as he might, Ron just could not outrun him.

He was at the main entrance when he spotted Lavender and Pavarti walking towards him, obviously returning from breakfast. Ron glanced behind him and saw the Harry and Hermione were a good ways back. He went to pull open the door and head outside before Lavender could reach him, knowing that she’d never go outside in the cold, but he was too late. She'd spotted him.

“Ron,” she called, saying something quickly to Pavarti before she dashed up to him.

Ron backed up against the door glancing again at Harry and Hermione, but Lavender seemed undeterred as she reached out towards him.

“Don’t touch me,” Ron snapped, ducking away from her hand.

Lavender frowned and pulled her hand back. “I was hoping we could get together tonight.“

“Lavender, I don’t think you understand. What happened was an accident.”

Lavender looked at him, seeming slightly hurt. “But you didn’t seem to mind last night.”

“I was drunk last night,” Ron said, looking again at Hermione and Harry who were both wearing looks of surprise at his conversing with Lavender. “Now’s a bad time. We’ll talk later.”

Lavender followed his gaze, noticing Harry and Hermione.

“Are you embarrassed?” she asked in shock, as though the idea of someone being embarrassed by being with her was unfathomable.

He ran a hand over his face in frustration. “I’m seeing Hermione.”

Lavender just looked at him blankly, as though she didn't understand. “What?”

“Hermione. . . I’m seeing her,” he repeated very slowly. “She’s my girlfriend. “

“Oh, she is?” a voice asked from down the hall.

Ron turned to look at Harry who was frowning. Fuck, his voice had carried all the way down the hallway. Hermione, was frowning too, but her glare was set on Lavender.

“B-but,“ Lavender stuttered, looking at Hermione in distaste.

“You heard him. Besides, don’t you have one of your own,” Hermione said coolly as she came up on them. “What happened to Seamus?”

“We broke up,” Lavender said to Hermione, then turned back to Ron. “ If you’re seeing her why did you sleep with me?”

Ron couldn’t believe he’d just heard that. His jaw actually fell open at her blunt statement. Hermione sucked in a sharp breath.

“That’s not true, is it?” Hermione asked weakly, turning to him.

“I. . .” He opened his mouth, but nothing would come out.

“It is true. I can prove. . .”

Ron was still in control of his senses enough to cover Lavender’s mouth and stop what she was about to say, knowing that it just make it worse, as if that was possible.

“Hermione, I was going to tell you,” he sputtered rapidly.

Hermione looked at Lavender, her eyes taking in the taller girl’s immaculate appearance, then ran a hand absently through her short brown hair.

“That’s why you can’t love me,” she murmured to herself. “I was never good enough for you.”

“What?! No. . . “

Hermione turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. Ignoring the sting of pain that surged through his veins. . . her pain.

“Let go of me, Ron. . . Or, I swear you’ll regret it,” she hissed vehemently.

“I was drunk, Hermione. It was an accident,” he said, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away.

Ron shrunk back when Hermione actually produced a knife seemingly out of nowhere. Both Lavender and Pavarti screamed in surprise.

“I really don’t want to hurt you,” Hermione said, suddenly very cool. “I suggest you let go.”

He did, mainly because he’d hate to have to tell Madam Pomfrey that Hermione had stabbed him. That would hardly be good for her prefect status.

Once he'd released her, Hermione turned on her heel and walked away without looking at any of them. And, some strange part of him admired that, even under such horrible circumstances, she could still hold onto her dignity.

“She’s insane,” Lavender said once Hermione was out of earshot.

“Will you just shut the fuck up?“ Ron snapped harshly at her.

“That was rude!” Lavender said as though she hadn’t just ruined his life.

“That’s just it, Lavender. I’m a rude person. . . I’m a bastard. And you just made the one girl who could actually put up with my arse walk away,” Ron sighed as he also turned away from them.

Ron pulled open the door and the girls moved away from the harsh cold wind that blew into the entrance hall, but he hardly noticed since he'd just taken off.

 

~*~

 

He knew there was no sense in going after Hermione. She needed space. . . So, he ran, his boots crunching in the snow, his face burning from the harsh cold, the mediocre heating charms he’d set on his clothing barely working.

He had made it all the way to the pitch when he heard a second pair of booted feet, and he turned to see who else was insane enough to be running in this weather. Harry was coming up behind him, he was running so fast that it was obvious he waited until Ron was half way across the grounds before he started after him.

Ron was confused as to why he had bothered. He assumed that Harry was almost as hacked off at him as Hermione was. He was still contemplating it when Harry approached, leaning down and grabbing a stitch in his side. Then he looked back up and Ron realized that Harry wasn’t hacked off. . . he was in a blind rage.

“Listen, Harry I know you’re mad. . .”

But, Ron didn’t finish because Harry did something that caught him completely off guard. He punched Ron. A right hook out of nowhere that made him bite his tongue painfully as his head snapped to the side.

Ron shook his head and gapped at his best friend, tasting blood in his mouth, staring into furious green eyes in shock.

“You just. . .”

But, Harry didn’t let him finish. He stumbled when Harry’s fist connected with his jaw for a second time, and Ron realized that he was going to fall. . . But, he wasn’t going down alone. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of Harry’s shirt just as his feet slipped out from under him, and he landed heavily in the snow as a surge of adrenaline shot through him.

“Don’t hit me again,” Ron warned Harry in barely contained anger.

“She may not want to hurt you, but I do! How could you do that, you lying bastard?” Harry growled, then hit him again, and stars actually formed behind Ron’s eyes.

He blinked and saw Harry’s fist rise again, only this time he caught it before it could actually make contact. He was hurting so badly his heart felt like it was shattered into a million pieces. He needed an outlet and it had been a bad decision on Harry's part to provide him with one. Ron reached up with his free hand and hit Harry as hard as he could. It was obviously more than Harry had expected because he looked back at him in surprise, his eyes slightly glazed over. He took advantage of Harry’s shock to reverse their positions, pinning the smaller boy beneath him a second before he punched him viciously in the side.

Then Ron lost track of who was hitting whom. He blocked out most of the pain as he and Harry rolled in snow, fighting like worst enemies as opposed to best mates. If they had had a fight like this last summer the damage probably wouldn’t have been as bad, but after almost six months of grueling training, they were really hurting each other. . . badly.

It was when Ron heard a loud crack as his fist connected with Harry’s side that he stopped for the first time. He didn’t know if the sound had been the bones in his hand breaking or Harry’s ribs, and he realized with horror that wasn’t the first crack he’d heard, it was just the first he acknowledged.

His pause earned him another jab in the side that ended with a resounding snap as Harry gained the upper hand. Ron was suddenly grasping for breath, each gasp caused a sharp pain in his chest and he had to blink to keep Harry in focus. Harry stopped then, dragging in deep breaths as he looked at him, horrified.

“You okay, mate?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“No!” Ron rasped, wanting to curse Harry to high hell.

He put his hand on his chest, hoping to stop the sharp pain that seemed to stab into him with each breath. He titled his head back and looked up at the sky that was gray blue, but it seemed to grow darker as he looked at it, turning almost black.

“Ron!”

He blinked again. . .and Harry came back into focus, not looking mad at all; he looked terrified. But, Ron didn’t really care. He wanted to go to sleep.

“Stay awake!” Harry shook him and Ron would have hit him again if he could.

“That hurts. . . you fuck!” he growled, trying to shove Harry away.

The effort was too much and pain the increased. . . he almost started laughing as his mother’s voice rang in his ears “Be careful what you wish for.”

He was going to die right there in the snow. . .

He didn’t know how much time was going by. He couldn’t focus on anything. At one point he thought he heard Harry talking, but he couldn’t make out the words.

Then someone was brushing at his hair, sweeping it off his forehead, and Ron frowned. . . He sure hoped that wasn’t Harry. He opened his eyes and there was a very blurry Hermione yelling at him, which was fine. She looked like an angel.

“I’ve died,” he said to himself.

“You’re not dead, you stupid prat! You’ve punctured a lung. This has to be the most idiotic thing you've ever done,” she said as she started to cut away his shirt.

He swatted her hands away. That was one of the few shirts he had that still fit him.

“Stop that. . . I need that,” he gasped out.

“Don’t talk!”

It had started snowing and Ron looked from the clouds back to Hermione. She had snowflakes in her hair and tears running down her cheeks that she brushed frantically away as though she just didn’t have time for them. She certainly wasn’t as polished as Lavender, but she was lovely. He’d never grow tired of looking at her.

“I love you.”

He said it before he could stop himself. It came out as barely a whisper, but she heard him and her head snapped up to look at him in disbelief. Her eyes searching his before she shook her head then looked down again.

“You don’t love me, Ron. I don’t think you can love anyone anymore.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. He wanted to scream that it wasn’t true. He at least wanted argue with her. But, the pain was too much, and whether it was from her denial or his lungs, it didn’t matter, because the gray sky turned black all of sudden, and he did what he’d been threatening to do since he stopped fighting with Harry. . . He passed out.


	7. Changes

Hermione stormed down the hallway, her breath coming in short bursts as she headed towards the Hospital wing. She was still covered in snow that had now melted and was starting to sink through the warming charm she'd set on her clothes. She would have shivered, but at the moment she was too numb to feel anything.

She shoved the door with far more force than should be allowed someone of her stature. It flew open and thundered as it hit the stone wall of the Hospital wing.

"Is he okay?" Harry asked, jumping up in his panic.

He must have miscalculated because Harry pitched forward, looking more like the clumsiest man in the world as opposed to the youngest seeker in a century. Someone gave a yell and grabbed him before he could land flat on his face.

Hermione tilted her head to look under Harry's arm and saw the small girl who was currently struggling under his weight. Her long black hair was in her eyes, and she brushed it out of the way as she shoved Harry back into the seat.

"Harry Potter! Madam Pomfrey told you to stay put! What do you think you're doing?" Cho yelled at him, brushing at her hair again, and straightening her robes as she turned to Hermione. "I practically had to stun him to keep him here."

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Hermione asked as she moved forward to peer into Harry's eyes that seemed slightly gazed over, and she couldn't help but wince at his appearance. He was a bloody mess.

"I think he has a concussion. He keeps rambling," Cho said, biting her lip nervously. "He hardly made it to the hospital wing. It's a good thing I ran into him in the entranceway. I almost had to carry him here."

"Is Madam Pomfrey with Ron? Is he okay?" Harry asked rapidly.

"Of course she's with him. Do you think I'd leave him passed out in the snow?" Hermione snapped at him. "And no, he's not okay. He's far from okay, Harry!"

"God, I know. . . I didn't think that would happen. I'm never forgiving myself for this."

"Oh good, we can add that to your list," Hermione said sarcastically, while leaning down to pull Harry up.

Cho helped her, and between the two of them they'd managed to get Harry to a bed, but it was no small feat, he was practically dead weight. And Cho was right, he was rambling.

"I know he's a prat. . . But you know, he's always there when you need him. Like in the shrieking shack when he stood on that broken leg to stand up for me. . . Remember that, Hermione?"

"Yes, I remember," Hermione said distractedly while trying to help him out of his shirt. She gave up and just decided to cut it off him like she did Ron's.

Cho gasped at the sight of his chest and abdomen. He was covered in newly formed bruises and welts. It was a wonder Harry had managed to make it back to the castle by himself. If Hermione had known he was this badly injured, she wouldn't have sent him. But, at the time it had seemed like the only option. She had been frantic over Ron who was practically dying in the snow.

"And when he and I were kidnapped. . . do you remember that, Hermione?"

She and Cho both winced.

"Do you?" he prodded, looking wild eyed at Hermione, stopping her to grab her hand.

"I think we all remember that, Harry."

"Yeah, that was bad," Harry said, relaxing back against the bed again. "You know, they hit him with that curse a lot more than me. . . a lot more. For hours and hours and just made me watch."

Hermione closed her eyes for a second. She didn't want to hear this right now. "Maybe you shouldn't talk anymore."

He just went on like he didn't hear her. "I kept begging them to stop. . . But they wouldn't. They thought it was funny. They used Ron against me. I would have taken those curses instead of him, you know that, right?"

Hermione felt tears start to run down her face. God, she wished Harry would just shut up. "Yes, I know that."

Harry nodded. "And, he just took it, Hermione. You don't know. . . He never asked them to stop. I didn't want that. . . and look at what I did. Oh god, I want to die."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and threw a hand over them. Hermione looked desperately to Cho who was crying like she was, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand.

"Do you know how to help him?" Cho asked her, looking at Harry, who was shaking his head in self-recrimination.

"With the concussion? No. . . But, we have to keep him awake."

Hermione decided to be proactive and work on the things she could fix. She left Harry to Cho and went to the medical cabinet. Pulling out the potions she needed, one that would help the bruising heal rapidly, and another for infections.

She walked back and found Cho leaning over Harry. Hermione was in shock for a second. She had never seen Harry like that. She knew that he and Cho had a relationship, but it was surprising. In a way, she still saw him as an eleven year-old boy, but suddenly he looked very much like a man with his shirt off and Cho's long raven hair blending with his as she whispered in his ear.

"I think he's feeling a little better," Cho said softly, looking up at her.

Hermione nodded and set the potions on the table next to Harry's bed. "Here, help me get him to drink this."

Cho nodded and helped Harry sit up a little as Hermione all but poured the potions down his throat, leaving him choking and gagging.

"That stuff tastes bloody awful," Harry winced, grabbing his side.

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you and Ron decided to beat each other almost to death!" Hermione snapped again, feeling guilty for it, but still unable to stop herself.

She started performing healing charms on the larger bruises that didn't want to heal from the potion. By the time they heard Madam Pomfrey return with Ron, Harry looked almost healed. Of course, he was still in pain. His hand was constantly grabbing his side, and he winced with every movement he made.

Ron was still out cold, and Hermione's heart lurched when she saw him. It was so hard to be mad at him when he was still looking so beaten and broken.

"He'll be fine there for a while. We can heal the rest of his injuries when he wakes up," Madam Pomfrey huffed as she walked away from the bed Ron had been placed in, removing her cloak and shaking off the snow. "Never in all my years. . . A broken jaw maybe or a few cracked ribs. . . but this, never!"

Hermione bit her lip, forcing herself not to inquire after Ron further. Instead she focused on Harry.

"I think he has a concussion and at least a few broken ribs," she told Madam Pomfrey, gesturing towards Harry.

"I don't doubt it. Not after seeing the mess Mr. Weasley was and he's the bigger of the two. What are they teaching you in those extra classes?" Madam Pomfrey asked, rounding on Hermione as though she were the guilty party.

"You know we can't tell you that," Hermione said sheepishly.

"Yes, I know. . . But, I'll tell you this. They shouldn't be teaching you what I think they're teaching you. . . Not in the condition those two boys are in."

"Condition?"

"It's obvious they both suffer from some sort of post traumatic stress disorder. . . No sane person would do that, especially to their friend."

Hermione wanted to inquire further, but the nurse had already moved on, clucking her tongue as she looked from Harry to Cho, who was still trying to calm him down.

Hermione watched her for a while as she worked on Harry, reprimanding everyone from Professor Dumbledore to Ron and Harry for the injuries she was having to mend.

Eventually, Hermione realized she wasn't needed and she ventured over to Ron's bed, hating herself for brushing the hair off his forehead as she looked at his bruised face. Her fingers ran over his lips that were spilt and still bleeding slightly.

She'd forced herself to ignore it. . . The pain, the heartache that made her want to scream from the intensity of it. She had been half way back to Gryffindor tower, wanting to do nothing but crawl into bed and hide from the world, when something had stopped her. She was walking back to the tower alone when Harry should have been with her. She knew he wasn't feeling any sympathy towards Ro. In fact, he'd looked furious when she left.

It was then that she realized he'd probably gone after Ron, and though she hadn't expected the disaster she'd found, she had considered that they could actually come to blows, and she didn't want that, not over her. Besides, she didn't need Harry to fight her battles for her; she was quite capable of doing that on her own.

"Hermione?"

She snapped out of her daze to see Ron blinking awake. He groaned and squinted his eyes as though trying to keep her in focus.

"I had the worst dream," he said gruffly.

"I'll bet," she said, turning to go towards the medicine cabinet once again, grabbing the same potions she gave Harry.

He reached out to her when she returned, his fingers brushing softly against her neck as she leaned over to try and help him up.

Hermione felt that familiar surge of comfort that came from Ron's touch and she roughly pushed his hand away. Disgusted at herself for being able to feel anything, especially that.

"Just don't," Hermione said, feeling the tears well up in her eyes again.

That seemed jolt Ron into alertness because he looked to her, shocked.

"It wasn't a dream," he mumbled as he sat up with her help, then gasped in pain. "Holy shit! What did you do to me?"

"You did this to yourself. . . And your best mate is over in the other bed in about the same condition," Hermione said as she forced the potions down his throat before he could protest.

Ron was coughing, pale and shaking, he dropped back onto the bed looking worse than he had before he woke up, even with his bruises healing before her eyes. He took a few steadying breaths before he turned back to her.

"Is Harry okay?"

"He'll heal. . . You both will," Hermione said weakly, wanting to leave, the image of him with Lavender breaking her heart as it flashed in her mind.

Ron reached out to her again, his hand grabbing her wrist, his thumb rubbing over the inside of it. Hermione felt herself melt and she wanted to cry even as she started to feel better, but she jerked her hand away from him. She didn't want to feel better. She didn't want to admit that she still cared for him, that his touch was still a comfort above all other things.

"Ron, if you care for me at all. You won't touch me."

Ron looked at her in misery, and then squeezed his eyes shut. He pressed both his palms to his forehead and she couldn't help but move to feel if he had fever, after all, he had being laying in the cold wet snow for quite a while. She started to pull one of Ron's hands from his head when he jerked away from her violently.

"Just go away," he snapped sharply. "You don't want me to touch you and I don't want you to touch me either."

Hermione backed away from him in shock. He'd never talked to her that way, and for some reason, it was like a slap in the face. Until that moment she hadn't really accepted everything. The wave pain that struck her was so intense she almost collapsed from it.

Ron moaned, still not moving his hands from his forehead, but pushing them harder against it. "Hermione, I'm sorry. . . I just. . ."

She didn't wait to hear it. She ran from his side without looking back, not caring about how sick Ron was. She was going to break down. She was going to embarrass herself by sobbing and screaming right in front of him. She dashed out, not even caring about the commotion she left in her wake.

Hermione stumbled blindly into the hallway, not paying any attention to the few curious stares she got from the other students mulling about. She walked around the corner, noting that the way was clear then stepped behind a tapestry and sunk to the floor.

Her head was cradled in her hands as she crouched, broken, on the cold stone. Her shoulders shook from the sheer force of her sobs. Never in all her life could she imagine a pain so intense. She could almost feel her heart shattering inside her chest.

She cried for so hard and so long that when she was done, she was left feeling just empty, drained of all life, a hollow shell of the girl she once was. But, Hermione was nothing if not studious. She learned her lessons well. Never again would she cry this brokenly over a man.

At that moment she locked her feelings away in the deepest part of her heart, a place that no one could touch, not even Ron. He'd never know how much he'd hurt her. She'd never be vulnerable again, no matter what the cost.

Vaguely, she realized that really, she had no idea how long she'd been crying. Hermione shook her head, and attempted to come back to reality. One could only hide for so long. So she stood, running a hand through her tangle of hair and brushed the dust from her training clothes.

She considered going back to the hospital wing, but then decided against it. So she headed back to Gryffindor tower, worn out, determined to take a nap and firmly believing that she'd earned it. She obviously needed it too, because Hermione slept clear past dinner, and was only roused by the sound of Lavender and Parvati trying to sneak into the dorm and not wake her. She waited until they were both asleep before getting up. They were obviously far more scared of her than she was of them, and a nasty side of Hermione liked it that way.

She would have liked to lie in bed until morning, but she was terribly hungry, having not eaten since breakfast. So she quickly dashed down to the kitchens, even though it was against her principals. Then she headed to the prefects bathroom, deciding that perhaps a bath might help her get back to sleep.

It didn't work, she still felt wide awake after her bath, which was compounded by the fact that she ran smack into someone else not two feet outside the entrance to the bathroom.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Hermione gasped as she landed straight on her arse in the hallway,

"Hermione?!"

The person was obviously shocked at her language, and she couldn't blame them, she was shocked herself. Everything she prided herself on was going out the window these days, thanks to Ron.

She brushed her wet hair out of her eyes, and smoothed her hand over her dressing gown, blushing when she realized that her fall probably revealed more flesh than was decent. She'd only worn a small nightdress that night as opposed to her usual flannel pyjamas. Perhaps because her pyjamas reminded her of Ron, and he was someone she didn't want to think about.

She looked at the other person who was also floundering about and attempting to gather his bath supplies as gracefully as possible. He was also blushing famously and kept casting sidelong glances to her. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw who it was, thanking the gods it wasn't someone dreadful like Professor Snape.

"Oh, Josh, it's you," she sighed as she bent down and picked up his toothbrush, handing it to him. "Sorry for my language."

"Oh, well, no. . . Quite understandable. . . Sorry for running straight into you. I was just. . .Well, I didn't think that anyone would be down here at this time of night"

Hermione tilted her head as he stuttered, watching him turn a shade pinker. He'd always been very friendly with her in their advance Arthimancy Class. She never paid much attention to him, he wasn't overly noticeable in any way, but he was quite smart she knew, very refined, cultured, proper, kind. Basically, he was everything Ron was not, which was probably why she hadn't noticed him.

She reached out and touched his shoulder when she realized that he was obviously far more humiliated at seeing most of her bare legs than she was.

"It's okay. . . I'm not shy. Don't worry about it," she said, smiling.

Her mentioning it only seemed to compound the problem for him. His eyes widened. "Oh, I wasn't looking. Not that you're not lovely, because you are. . . I just would never look at you like that. . .and it was an accident. . . Oh Merlin," he breathed finally, running a hand though his mused hair, straightening it in the process.

Hermione burst out laughing, and it felt so good after the day she had. "Josh, I said it was fine. Don't worry about it. Too bad for you it wasn't Cho Chang or someone a little more worth looking at?"

Oh god, she obviously spent too much time in the company of males, she was starting to sound like them.

"But you are worth looking at, not that I was looking, mind you."

"Oh. . . That's sweet," she said, touched that he was actually trying to spare her feelings. "But I wasn't digging for a compliment."

"I know you weren't," Josh said, smiling and seeming to relax a little. "Are you okay. . . I noticed that you weren't at dinner."

"Oh, yes, fine. . . Just had a bit of a rough day, that's all."

"I heard that Harry and Ron had an accident of some sorts."

Hermione stared at him, feeling her heart sink. The whole school knew. Well, considering Lavender and Parvati were the two biggest gossips she'd ever had the unfortunate opportunity of knowing, she shouldn't be surprised.

"Yes, quite the accident they had, fell right into each other's fists," Hermione said in a deadpan voice, wincing at the bitterness there.

"I wasn't looking for a explanation. I know there's an honest reason behind it all," Josh said, then leaned closer. "I never put much clout in rumours. I know you're a proper lady, Hermione. Just ignore the rest."

Hermione looked at him and felt tears threatening to spill again. Whether it was from Josh thinking her still proper, or that his needing to say that meant the rumours flying about must be truly terrible, she didn't know.

"Thanks Josh, I needed that," she said, tying her dressing gown a little tighter. "I'll see you around. "

Josh nodded as he headed for the boys' bathroom. "Yes, see you around."

 

~*~

 

The next few days went by like a blur to Hermione. They were some of the worst in her life. She, Ron and Harry's friendship was in tatters. Where once they were so close, now, neither one said more than a few words to the other.

To make matters worse, Sirius was furious over what had happened, horrified by what the boys had done to each other. There were even musings between Sirius and the Weasleys of sending the both boys back to St. Mungo's for re-evaluations.

Upon hearing this, Ron and Harry tossed aside all matter of pride, and flat out begged not to be sent back. They made amends with each other, and probably would have kissed Malfoy if asked, anything to prevent having to be committed to St. Mungo's.

So, while Harry and Ron didn't hate each other, and neither one hated her, and really, despite everything, she didn't hate them, everyone was just uncomfortable, stressed, and horribly sore. Sirius had upped their training, deciding that if Ron and Harry had so much excess energy that they needed to beat each other almost to death, then he'd help them work off the energy in a more constructive way.

Hermione was excused from the extra training lessons, but she participated, perhaps just to prove that she could take just as much as Ron and Harry. It also had the added benefit of being so painful and grueling, that she didn't even spare a second thought over Ron.

In fact, the three of them were zombies, blindly falling into bed at night, not needing anything but food and sleep. They hardly noticed the horrible rumors being spread about them. Hermione didn't even lash out at Lavender, despite knowing that she was the one who'd started them.

By the next weekend Hermione was looking so forward to a break, she didn't even care that it meant she'd probably have to talk to Ron instead of just ignoring him. She'd already pulled Harry aside earlier that week and explained herself, apologized for lying, and unfortunately, lying more when he asked if she'd slept with Ron. Her pride was already wounded, how could she admit that she'd sunk so low as to give herself away to someone who didn't even truly care for her?

Ron had been eyeing her strangely since then, so it wasn't a surprise when he whisked her aside the second Harry left to meet with Cho on Saturday morning.

"We need to talk."

Ron had a hold of her arm, and in typical Weasley fashion, was so impulsive he didn't even stop to notice that they were causing a scene outside the Great Hall. Hermione wrenched her arm free and walked around the corner, hoping for a little more privacy.

"Fine, talk," she snapped once she made sure that they were free from prying eyes.

"Why did you lie to Harry?" Ron said tensely, his jaw clenching between words. "Why did you lie to him about sleeping with me?"

Hermione gave an incredulous laugh. "You didn't think I'd admit the truth, did you? I don't want Harry to know what an idiot I was."

"Oh thanks," Ron said sarcastically, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I know I fucked up. . ."

"Brilliant observation, did it take you all week to figure that out?"

"I told you it was an accident! You're not listening to me!" Ron barked back, his face turning red in repressed anger.

"Tell me, Ron. . . How do you accidentally sleep with Lavender? Who, I remind you, is saying some pretty awful things about me! Do you know what she's saying?"

"I know! I know. . . I'm sorry. . . No one believes any of that!"

"Everyone believes it and you know it!"

Ron winced, "How do I make it up to you? I just need to know how I make it better. . . To put it back the way it was before?"

"What?!" Hermione gasped. "You don't, Ron. It's never going back to the way it was before. Never!"

"Of course it will."

"Are you daft? You do deserve to be locked up in St. Mungo's if you actually thought that I'd go back to you!"

"You don't mean- -"

"I do mean it Ron. . . I'd rather fuck Malfoy!" she yelled, all the hurt rising violently to the surface.

"Don't you ever say that!" he yelled, pointing a finger at her.

She reached up and smacked his hand away. "Don't point at me! I'll say whatever I want, to whomever I feel like saying it to. And, I suggest, that if you want to continue being friends, which is questionable at the moment, you learn to accept that!"

"You will come back to me," Ron said quietly, his eyes burning.

"I will not, Ron. I will never come back to you, and that's a promise," she said vehemently.

"You still love me. I can feel it. I know you do!"

"I don't Ron. . . I never did!" she lied, suddenly wanting to hurt him as much as he'd hurt her.

"You said you loved me."

"When Ron? You've never heard me say I loved you, and you never will!"

Ron leaned back, looking at her as though she'd slapped him. She could see the truth sinking in. He was realizing that she was right, she'd never once admitted to loving him.

He sighed. "Well, I do love you. . . more than life itself."

She snorted in disbelief. "Oh please, spare me. . ."

"I do!"

"You don't!"

"I do, Hermione," he said, grabbing her arm again, his voice shaking in fury and hurt. "I do love you and I'll prove it."

"You can't, you'll never have the chance," she fired back, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

"I will. . . I don't care what the cost, even if I have to die to do it!" Ron said passionately, his eyes glowing in raw determination.

For just the briefest of seconds Hermione had a shiver. She felt an icy fear in the back of her spine so strongly she almost blanched from it, but she shook it off.

She backed up, and then turned away from him completely, heading back towards the Great Hall. Just before she was out of Ron's range of vision Hermione spotted a familiar face, and dashed forward, grabbing the thin, brown haired boy's hand.

"Josh," she said, tossing one last look behind her to Ron who stood rooted to the spot she left him. "You were just the person I was looking for."


	8. Illusions

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Harry had mention that muggle saying once, and for the first time, Ron got it. There really was nothing worse.

Ron glared across the Great Hall to Hermione who was currently talking animatedly with Josh at the Ravenclaw table, waving her hands about like she did when she was trying to prove a point.

She'd been dating Josh for months now. At first Ron had thought she was doing it to spite him, but then he noticed that Hermione seemed genuinely happy around the prat. She may not love him, but she sure liked the bloke a whole lot. It didn't hurt that the bastard was richer than Midas. He was always buying Hermione gifts, things she loved like books and quills.

The wound was so raw; Ron didn't think he'd ever get over it. Everyday he fell a little more in love with her, and everyday he watched her slip farther and farther away from him. Sure, she was still is friend, but he wanted more than that. He wanted things back the way they were. He had almost felt normal when he was with her, he could almost forget.

His bed wasn't cold. For reasons he'd never understand, women actually liked him now. They went out of their way to seek him out and who was he to refuse, especially since he was well and truly single. But, he didn't really want the attention, never really enjoyed being with anyone who wasn't Hermione. It was just a way to fill time, and keep him from going mad. Sometimes he could close his eyes and just for a second pretend that it was her.

He was so lonely it hurt.

"You've been glaring at that table for fifteen minutes."

Ron turned to Harry, who was grinning at him. "I know you're not talking. You drool over a certain someone every chance you get."

"Too true, still, this is starting to get borderline pathetic. One might think you're in love with our best friend," Harry taunted. "I thought you two were over each other. I thought it was just some temporary thing that can come from being close friends for so long."

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry's poor attempt at repeating Hermione's well-practiced explanation. The one she gave every time the topic of the two of them came up. "I just don't like that bloke. There's something about him that I don't trust."

"You don't trust anyone."

"With good reason," Ron snapped, turning to Harry. "I'm telling you, that prat is right shady. Did you see that the gold encrusted quill holder he bought her?"

"Yes, it was truly horrifying," Harry said, laughing. "He cares about her. You should be happy for her. Hermione found someone who likes studying almost much as she does, they're a match made in heaven."

Ron thought he might be sick.

He gathered his things and shoved them into his bag. "I'm going to work out."

"There's a shock."

"Are you coming?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I think I've had enough punishment for one week. You go ahead."

 

~*~

 

When Ron worked out, he did almost blindly, knowing only that he wanted to cause himself enough pain that it blocked out the emotional hurt he was feeling. It was the one thing he could do that no one complained about and wouldn't earn him a permanent bed at St. Mungo's. So, he used it to its utmost advantage.

During the past summer they'd all received special time turners so that they'd be able to use the summer to it's fullest potential. It wasn't always easy for the three of them to get together considering the Dursley's and Hermione's parents who weren't all that eager to let her go. The time turners allowed them to get in enough training with the time allotted them.

They were suppose to leave them with Sirius when they were done for the day, but Ron had asked if he could hold on to his. He wanted to get some extra time in. After all, what else did he have to do with his summer? Sirius agreed as long as Ron had promised that he wouldn't abuse it.

He hadn't really kept his word. He had abused it. Ron trained for so hard and so long the past summer that when he sat down to figure it all out, he realized that he'd aged himself over a year. He hadn't thought about it until his mum had said something about the amount of weight he'd been gaining. While to him it was gradual to everyone else it looked like it was happening almost overnight.

He finally stopped, realizing that he couldn't go back to Hogwarts five years older, he hated to, though. Every time he used the turner, he felt a sense of relief that he was that much more ahead of the them, that he was that much closer to being as efficient as he'd like to be. Ron wasn't naive; he knew that he'd face the Death Eaters again. Only next time he wouldn't be a helpless little boy.

Ron's thought's drifted to Hermione as his muscles started burning and the Quidditch locker room began faded away. He saw her laughing between kisses at some joke between them. He saw her with her head tossed back, her bottom lip between her teeth as he touched her. He saw a lot of things, he always did. Hermione may not have any problem forgetting, but Ron sure did. Images of her haunted him day and night.

He seethed in jealously every time he saw Josh with her. Ron hated him, and not just for being with Hermione. He really hated the bloke. Every time he was near, Ron's fingers just itched to wrap around the skinny boy's throat and strangle him. Perhaps he was being irrational. His own feelings for Hermione were so extreme it probably clouded his judgment. Still, was he willing to risk her getting hurt? What if he was right? What if Josh was a danger?

Ron dropped the weights suddenly and they crashed to the ground, the sound echoing around the locker room. He'd made a decision, and was amazed it'd taken him this long to do it. Hermione had warned him more than once that if he meddled in her life, she'd end their friendship.

But, what Hermione didn't know, wouldn't hurt her.

 

~*~

 

Ron leaned against the wall, waiting. His afternoon was free since he wasn't forced to take elective classes anymore. He got to be a War Mage instead, which was fine with him. He'd rather do weapons training any day over Divination. Though today, he didn't have weapons training. He was supposed to be studying, or practicing or something else worthwhile, but he wasn't.

The door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room opened, and all the seventh year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws filed out. Two Hufflepuff girls waved at him, and Ron put his finger to his lips indicating that they should be quiet. He was supposed to be hiding, but his size made that harder lately. They giggled, and walked away, doing a miserable job of pretending not to see him.

Then he saw him. Josh walked out with his chest puffed out, his Head Boy badge gleaming. He was just like Percy, only Percy was actually trustworthy, Josh wasn't. He watched him walk around the corner, talking animatedly to Cho. A little too animatedly in Ron's opinion,

He dashed forward, jumping in front of the Head Boy and Girl, startling them both

"Ron," Cho greeted him after she'd recovered from her shock. "Don't you have something better to do than to go around scaring people to death?"

"I do, but every time I ask, you say no." He smiled, temporarily forgetting that he was on a mission. Harry was a lucky bastard.

Josh sputtered indignantly. "That's hardly appropriate."

Cho laughed, ignoring Josh as she looked up at Ron. "I know someone who might take offense to you flirting with me."

"Do you?" Ron said. "If it's the person I'm thinking of then I'm not overly concerned. You could do better."

"I'll be sure to tell him you said that."

"You do that," he said. "Tell him he's the world's biggest git, too."

Josh had started to walk away from them, obviously annoyed by their banter and Ron remembered that though she was lovely, Cho wasn't the person he came to speak to.

"Listen, I'll see you later," Ron said to her, as he turned to leave

Cho arched an eyebrow at him, looking like she might want to say something but let him go as he stalked after Hogwarts' Head Boy.

Josh glanced over his shoulder twice before he stopped, turning to Ron in annoyance. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, you can," Ron said, grabbing a fistful of his robes and jerking him around the corner.

"Unhand me. Unhand me this instant. . . You. . . You just better. . . " He was sputtering, trying to disentangle himself from Ron's hold and remain his composer at the same time. "A hundred points from Gryffindor!"

Ron laughed, and pushed him against the wall. "I don't really give a damn how many points you take from Gryffindor. I stopped worrying about shit like that a long time ago.

"I'll report you."

"Fine. . . But, it'd be a bad idea."

"You'll be expelled!"

"Maybe, but that wouldn't change the fact that your nose would be broken. And, they don't always heal 'em up right. Plus, it hurts. . . Badly. Not a pleasant experience at all. Course, I've felt worse, still, I'd recommend against it."

Josh gapped at him, his arms dropping to his side is shock. "You really are mad."

"It's very possible," Ron agreed. "Now are we ready to talk or do you need further encouragement to listen to me."

"I-I'll listen," Josh mumbled weakly.

Ron let go of his robes, "You Ravenclaw lads are always so nice. You know when to let things go. Not all cock and balls like we Gryffindors."

Josh winced at his language, and really, Ron had to wonder what Hermione saw in him. If he got anymore more proper he'd be a girl.

"I want to talk about Hermio--"

"She said that you two had never been serious. . . That there was nothing between you!" Josh fired off defensively, looking up at Ron wide-eyed.

"Settle down, I'm not talking about that. . . She's decided that she's taken with you, so whatever. I guess that's her decision to make."

"She said you might still fancy her. That you might try to threaten me."

"She knows me too well." Ron laughed for a second, and then sobered up, looking at Josh seriously. "Except, I don't make threats."

"You don't?"

"No, Josh, I don't. . . I make promises."

"Oh," he said, swallowing hard.

"So here's my promise. . . If you ever do anything to hurt Hermione, I will kill you."

Josh laughed uncertainly. "That's a little dramatic. You must be joking."

"I don't joke."

"You'd be willing to go Azkaban?"

"I'd do that and more for her. . . Besides, I didn't go to Azkaban for the last man I killed."

Josh just stared at him in muted horror for a bit, before he took a shaky breath. "I thought that was just a rumour."

"It's not. . ."

Josh's eyes flicked to the scar on Ron's cheek, and then he cleared his throat. "I wouldn't hurt, Hermione. I think you're imagining things, because I truly care for her."

"Good," Ron said, his voce suddenly bright. He thumped Josh good-naturedly on the back and he stumbled forward from the force of it. "Then we don't have anything to worry about."

He stood back and let Josh go. Ron could tell he was frazzled, but was trying to remain his dignity. He let Josh get halfway down the hallway before he called out to him. "Oh, and Josh. . . I'd take it personally if you snitched on me to Hermione."

Josh nodded, tripping in his effort to do so and keep walking at the same time.

 

~*~

 

"Oh, come on, admit it. . . You said something to him," Harry said as he rolled onto his back, looking at the Maurders Map that he had held up in the air in front of him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Ron mumbled, running an old shirt over his dagger, then turning it over in his hand and frowning at a scratch in.

"You're the worst liar. He's been avoiding the Gryffindor table for a week now, and he practically turns white every time he looks at you. Hermione'll kill you if she finds out."

Ron didn't answer, choosing to ignore Harry rather than get himself caught in a lie. He got off Harry's trunk and fetched his wand from his nightstand, then sat back down and started to perform a polishing charm.

"Look, it's Malfoy and Pansy. . . No creativity, those two," Harry said, bringing the map closer to his face. "You'd think they'd head up to the Astronomy Tower every once in a while for a change of pace. They're always in bed."

"He must not be very good at whatever they're doing in there. . . She approached me," Ron said offhandedly, reaching for his other dagger.

"Oh god. . . You didn't, did you? Not with Pansy!" Harry gasped, making a horrified face as he flipped back on to his stomach.

"Of course not! Malfoy's dick's been in her," Ron said as he looked at Harry, insulted.

"Argh, don't talk about anything of Malfoy's. I'll never be able to eat again."

Harry made a gagging sound and Ron couldn't help it, he burst out a laughing.

"You know, I heard it's real small." Ron held up his wand and pointed to about a third of the way down. "About like this."

They both rolled in laughter. Neville snorted in his sleep and they quieted down, nearly cracking a rib with the effort. Ron reached for the map as a distraction, scanning over the endless dots and tiny names. He spotted Hermione's name straight away. She was in Josh's bedroom, except she wasn't studying like she usually did in there or even snogging, it looked like she was. . .

The map drifted out of his hands and he fell off the trunk in his effort to get up quickly. Ron landed hard on the floor, looking at Harry, horrified.

"What?!" Harry said immediately, jumping out of bed and coming around to where the map had fallen. "What'd you see? Is it an attack?!"

Ron shook his head numbly. The pain in his chest was making speaking almost impossible.

Harry continued to look at the map until he made a sound of realization. "Oh, well. . .You had to expect. . . They've been dating for a while."

Anger had surged through Ron. . . Hot irrational anger.

Harry touched his shoulder. "Ron?"

"Don't. . . Just don't touch me," he snapped, leaping to his feet. "Stay away from me!"

He stalked to the door and pulled it open.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to work out!" he barked, and then turned back to Harry before walking into the hallway. "Just leave me alone for a bit. . . I need to be alone."

Harry nodded, glancing back at the map. "You'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine."

It was a lie and they both knew it, but, Ron also knew Harry would do as promised and leave him alone. So, he stormed down the hallway, and out of the tower towards the third floor corridor, desperate to get somewhere where he could let out his anger.

 

~*~

 

Ron sat in the ruins of the third floor corridor. Dented, broken desks and shattered chairs lay around him. He didn't care. Pain seared though his body. Nerve endings from his broken hands were screaming at him. He hardly noticed it.

God, but he'd give anything to hate Hermione, to brush her aside and be done with her. She'd obviously moved on, why couldn't he? He should have been the one making love to her tonight, not that Nancy boy Josh.

Ron had never felt a pain this intense, not in all his life. His heart was broken. He'd been under the illusion that Hermione would eventually come back to him, but now he realized that he'd actually lost her. He might as well die now, because he really didn't want to go on living without at least the hope of Hermione in his life. Visions of her marrying Josh one day and having boring children clouded his vision. He had to blink away tears that were actually threatening to form.

"Ron?"

He didn't move. He just sat there hoping that the owner of the voice wouldn't notice him, or at least pretend not to see him sitting in the middle of the room.

"I know you're there."

Silence.

"You have no right to react like this."

She walked towards him, cursing under her breath when she tripped over a chair leg. Ron would have smiled if he'd thought he was capable of it.

"Damn it, Ronald Weasley! Speak to me!" she yelled, lighting her wand. "You've shagged countless girls since we broke up and I'm not allowed to sleep with one man in all this time?"

"I just shag them because I'm lonely. . . I don't pretend to love them," he mumbled, looking up at Hermione as she moved to stand in front of him, her face glowing under the light of he wand.

"Ron, this. . ." She gestured wildly around at the messy room. ". . . is not fair to me."

"I know."

"Then why do you do it?"

"I just can't stop the hurt, Hermione. I can't stop loving you. . . I just can't," he said, choking on his words and looking down at his feet as they became a watery blur.

Hermione sighed and dropped to her knees in front of him. She picked up his hand gently and he winced from the pain that went stabbing through him.

"Do you think they're broken," she asked as she squinted at his bleeding knuckles under the dim wand light.

Ron nodded, "Can you fix it?"

"I suppose. . . If we send you to Madam Pomfrey again she'll tell your mum, and we don't want that," Hermione said, moving to shift through the mess he'd made.

She found several candles and lit them, placing them on various scattered objects until finally there was a warm glow surrounding them. It illuminated her face, showing her flushed cheeks and brown eyes that glittered brightly. Hermione was obviously fighting back tears too, and he hated himself for that.

"You're beautiful," he said, wanting to make her feel better.

She looked up from studying his hand and gave a short laugh. "Thanks."

"I'm serious!"

"I know, Ron. It's just, you say that about twenty times a day. It gets a little old. You need to work on some new lines."

He watched her work for a while. He liked the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating, and the way she mumbled to herself when she was trying to figure something out. It was almost worth breaking his hands to see that. She smelled so good he couldn't help but lean in just a little and breathe her in.

"Ron."

"Huh?"

She sighed again and sat back. "This can't go on. You think you're in love, but you're not. You can't keep clinging to me. It's not healthy."

"I'm not stupid, Hermione. I know my own feelings."

Hermione studied him, then shook her head and went back to working on his hands. She fixed one and he flexed his fingers, marveling at how good she'd got at healing charms. He suspected that he wasn't the only one who had abused the time turner that summer.

Almost on instinct he reached out and touched her hair, fingering one wet curl between his newly healed fingers.

"You took a shower."

"Uh, huh. . ." she nodded, still working on his other hand.

He frowned at the top of her wet head as she bent over him, casting a charm on his index finger.

"Why? Were you trying to wash him off you?"

Hermione's head snapped up and she glared at him, her eyes alight in sudden fury. "How dare you! You have no business saying things like that to me!"

"It's just, I do that too sometimes. . . No one likes to feel dirty."

"I don't feel dirty!"

Hermione jumped up and pointed her wand at him as she yelled, and though Ron didn't think she'd curse him, any wand being pointed at him made him very nervous, and he flinched. She must have noticed, because she lowered it immediately.

"I don't feel dirty," she said again.

"Okay, you don't feel dirty. I'm sorry."

"You should be!"

"I am."

"That was a terrible thing to say," Hermione admonished him, getting back down on her knees and picking up his hand. "Really, just horrific. . . "

Ron silently watched her finish healing his hand. She did do great work, and he considered asking if she had used the time turner for extra practice, but then decided against it. She'd probably get defensive again.

"We need to head back. Harry's worried. . . He was waiting for me when I got back to the common room," Hermione said, standing up and sliding her wand into her dressing gown pocket.

"He shouldn't have snitched. You two always gang up on me," Ron grumbled, not moving to get up.

"Ron, it's not ganging up on you. Do you honestly think we'd let you stay up here all night?"

"It wouldn't kill me," he said, thinking that spending the night right where he was wasn't a bad idea.

"True, but it's not necessary. Harry's sitting there right now, worrying. Do you want that?"

Ron shook his head, the guilt knifing through him. Harry had enough to worry about.

"Then let's go. It's late and I'm tired," Hermione said, grabbing his hand and helping him up. "Are you okay now?"

"No."

Hermione sighed. "I don't know how to help you. You're living under an illusion of something that can't happen. We're friends, that's it."

Ron studied her, watching a water drop run down her cheek from a brown curl that hung there. "I don't think I'm the one living an illusion, Hermione."

 

~*~

 

The next week was a blur for Ron. He was just going through the motions of the living, but really, he was dead inside. He still trained, he still ate, he still studied, but really, he wasn't there at all.

Harry and Hermione noticed, but never said anything. They gave him his space, which was fine with him, except it meant that Hermione spent even more time with Josh, and that made Ron feel physically ill. He couldn't look at the two of them without seeing them in bed together doing things he hadn't ever wanted to imagine Hermione doing with anyone but him. Vaguely, he wondered if she felt the same way about him, about the women he slept with when the loneliness got to be too much. But, she'd have to care for that, and it was pretty obvious she didn't.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and Ron really didn't feel like going. But, Harry had nagged at him insistently, and finally Ron had relented. Besides, he had a problem with Harry being outside of the castle alone. Anything could happen.

He sat in the corner of the Three Broomsticks, drinking Butter Beer, watching Hermione across the room as she sat with a group of Ravenclaws. She was stiff and uncomfortable, obviously due to her uniform that she was wearing underneath her robes. Harry too, was shifting around uncomfortably next to him and Ron had to question if he was the only one who enjoyed wearing his uniform. He'd wear it everyday if he could.

"Hey, love, can I get you something stronger?"

Ron looked away from Hermione to the pretty bar maid who was leaning over him.

"No, not today," he said, noting that she wasn't very old, probably twenty. "Won't you get in trouble for serving alcohol to students?"

"You're a big lad. I'm sure you can handle it." She shrugged, boldly looking him over. "I knew your brother George. . . It nearly broke my heart when he left school."

He laughed. "It looks like you've survived, but I'll be sure to tell him he's missed."

"You look like him," she sighed wistfully. "If you ever get. . .thirsty. You'll come see me, yes?"

Harry choked on his Butter Beer next to him, and Ron thumped him on the back harder than needed, still looking at the barmaid. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks."

She smiled and walked away, wincing at a group of third year boys who were calling her over.

"How do you do that?" Harry asked incredulously once he'd stopped coughing.

"I dunno. . . She's just lonely, I guess," he said, looking back to Hermione, except there was no Hermione. He's eyes scanned the room instantly, looking for her. "Where'd she go?"

"Where'd who go?"

"Hermione, you prat, she was just there. . ."

Harry looked around, and then shrugged. "I guess she went to the loo."

"No, Josh is gone too. . . I don't think she took him with her," Ron snapped, starting to panic. "I'm going to look for her."

Ron had stood up and Harry grabbed a fistful of his robes, holding him back. "You can't follow her around everywhere. She has her own life."

"What if something happens to her? Josh can't protect her. . .He can't even protect himself," Ron said, still looking around the room, feeling an icy shred of fear shoot through him.

"I think you're overreact--" Harry started, then gave a quick gasp of pain, grabbing his forehead suddenly.

"Oh, fuck!" Ron grabbed Harry by the back of his robes and jerked him to his feet. "You okay, mate?"

Harry nodded, looking pale, "Yeah, let's go find. Hermione."

Ron didn't need telling, he'd already started towards the door. Most students stepped aside, the ones who didn't were shoved away forcefully. Harry was at his side and Ron could feel the nervousness flowing off him. He needed to find Hermione and get Harry back to castle.

Once they got outside they scanned the crowds of students that were mulling about.

"Where?" Harry said, still rubbing his scar.

Ron looked around, fighting down the panic to concentrate. "They probably headed to Flourish and Botts, or Dervish and Banges. . . I can't think of where else. Hermione's got her uniform on, so I doubt they're off snogging somewhere. Besides, Josh isn't the type."

"Maybe a walk by the Shrieking Shack. . . It is Historical, after all," Harry said, obviously trying to think past the irritation in his forehead. "We could split up."

"No!" Ron said instantly, "No splitting up. . . That'd be bad. We'll just check by the Shrieking Shack first."

He hated making decisions like this, but Ron knew that if something were happening anywhere public, they'd hear the commotion. As it was, there was nothing but the sound of rowdy students out for a day.

He and Harry headed towards the Shrieking Shack. They weren't running, but they were moving very fast. Part of Ron thought that maybe he was overreacting. Harry got headaches all the time, and Hermione could take care of herself.

"STUPEFY!"

They stopped walking for a split second. The fear that had nagging at Ron poured over him instantaneously. His heart literally plummeted at the sound off Hermione's voice. He ran forward, pulling his robes off, not even caring who saw his uniform underneath. Hermione had sounded terrified, and as he rounded the corner towards the Shrieking Shack, he could see why.

She was surrounded by Death Eaters, more than Ron could even count. He could barely discern anything beyond the pounding in his ears. Hermione was backed against a tree, completely surrounded. Two cloaked figures lay on ground, maybe stunned, maybe dead, it didn't matter. In the back of his mind, Ron noted that Josh had also fallen, but he didn't waste any thought on him either. He lurched forward and before he'd even realized he'd done it, his knife was imbedded into the back of the Death Eater closest to Hermione, she gasped when the man crumpled at her feet.

Their eyes met for just the briefest of moments, long enough for him to see that she was unharmed. He considered telling her one last time that he loved her, just in case, but then her eyes grew wide and she threw another stunning spell over his shoulder.

She pushed past him towards Harry, who'd thrown himself into the fray and every thing faded to red around them. Ron wasn't doing anything but fighting his nightmares. The sea of black cloaks, the acid smell of blood and hex charred flesh, it was just a blur to him. He couldn't recognize anything past the blind rage. A part of him was still that scared boy who'd been kidnapped, and he lashed out like one, except he wasn't a boy anymore.

 

~*~

 

Hours later, Ron sat against a tree, ignoring the dozens of officials that were scattered about, glowing under the light of magical lanterns set about to illuminate the scene through the inky darkness. White sheets that had been conjured up covered dead bodies, the green grass matted down by pools of blood. Ron saw all these things, and really, he was waiting to wake up. He killed the Death Eaters of his dreams all the time, but the sins didn't stain his hands. This time it had.

He stared at his palms that were sticky with blood, and absent mindedly, he wiped them against his trousers, but it didn't rub off so easily. Someone put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped, about ready to hex whoever was standing there. He relaxed when he saw it was Hermione.

"Ron, it's alright, you're not in trouble. It was self defense," she said, getting on her knees.

Ron nodded and went back to looking at his hands as Hermione reached to wipe at his cheek, her thumb moving to rub furiously at a spot on his forehead. . . More blood.

"Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" she asked, her voice shaking violently as she continued to clean the bloodstains off his face. "They said we can go back to the castle soon. Then you can take a shower. . . And, you'll feel better."

He nodded again, and then lifted his head to look at her. "Where's Harry?"

"He's talking to Daniels. He's giving a report for both of you since we didn't think you'd be up to it."

"That's nice of him," Ron mumbled. "Is Josh okay?"

"They took him to the hospital wing, and revived him there. He doesn't remember anything, so we just made up a story about some third years and a stray hex," Hermione shrugged. "No sense worrying him. He's fine. They probably already sent him back to his Dormitory."

Ron didn't say anything, and went back to watching the scene in front of him. After while, he got bored and pulled out his favorite dagger, and studied it. There were several new scratches. He'd have to polish it tomorrow and maybe check to see if some of the charms had been affected.

"Ron. . ."

"Yeah."

"You're not a bad person."

He laughed bitterly.

"It was self defense," she said again. "You were just protecting yourself, protecting your friends. That's all it was."

"How come you didn't kill anyone, then?" he asked, turning to look at her. "You were defending yourself too. How come none of those white sheets have your name written on them?"

She sighed. "I don't know."

Ron didn't dare say anything else. Hermione obviously enjoyed living her illusions. She liked to pretend that she was in love with Josh, that she and Ron were just friends, that nothing serious had ever passed between them. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and think that what had happened was just a act of self defense. . . But deep down they both knew it was revenge.


	9. Reunion

Hermione sat by the fire staring into the flames, replaying the events of the afternoon over and over again in her mind. She wasn't sure how to think or feel. Part of her, the humane part, the side that told that death was bad, was appalled. She'd watched Ron kill six Death Eaters today, six! It was an outrageous number. Still, she just couldn't be mad at him. They had been attacked. The Death Eaters had been determined to capture them. Ron had acted in self-defense --just like she and Harry had done. It was just too bad for them that Ron was Ron. They had created their own nightmare by what they did to him.

After a while, she realized that she was waiting. She needed to see him once more to make sure he was all right. If she was sitting here battling with her humanity, she could only imagine how Ron must be feeling. Something this deep, this emotional, over powered any petty little arguments they'd had in the past. Tonight, she didn't care that he had slept with Lavender.

"Hey, why are you still up?"

Hermione jumped, startled at the voice and whipped around, wand in hand. Harry threw a barrier in front of himself automatically. Which was a good thing since Hermione had uttered a hex before her mind accepted that it was Harry standing in front of her and not a Death Eater. She watched it bounce off the barrier and blinked when Harry waved his hand to dispel the barrier.

"Harry, I'm so sor--"

"No, my fault. I shouldn't have startled you," Harry said, waving off any apology.

"I suppose I'm still jumpy," Hermione shrugged as she turned back to the fire.

"Understandable. Why don't you go to bed?" Harry suggested as he came around and sat next to her.

Hermione turned to look at him and noticed that he was dressed to go out. "Where are you going?"

"To see Cho. I owled her when we got back telling her I'd come by later. I just need that tonight, you know."

Hermione nodded, she did know. After the horrors of the afternoon, human touch and kindness was almost necessary.

"Do you want to see Josh? Cho's going to be waiting for me at the portrait. She could let you in," Harry asked reluctantly.

"No, I wouldn't be able to tell him anything, and he'd want to know why I was showing up at this time of night unannounced," Hermione said. "It's just better if I stay here. Besides, I was waiting for Ron..." She kept looking into the flames, afraid that her face would show her emotions. "I'm sure he'll be off somewhere soon. I just wanted to see if he was all right."

"Actually, I don't think he's planning on going anywhere. He was still in the shower when I came down. I think he's trying to unwind," Harry sighed as he looked back up the boy's staircase.

"Oh well, I'll just head to bed in a bit, then."

Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You'll be alright?"

"Yes, I'll be fine," Hermione said as she pushed at his knee. "Go see Cho. Don't keep her waiting,"

Harry nodded and headed to the portrait. Hermione watched him leave then settled even more deeply into the couch. She tried to talk herself into going to bed, but for some reason she couldn't. She felt an almost primal need to see Ron, to make sure that he was okay.

Hermione stared deeper into the fire. She could go up and see him. He hadn't gone to bed yet. Harry had said he was still in the shower. Of course, walking into the boys' shower was very much against the rules. But, it was unlikely that anyone would catch her. It was well past midnight, everyone but Ron would be asleep.

Hermione jumped up, making her decision. Any other night she would have never even considered such an action, but tonight things were just different. She walked quietly up the staircase and was on the second landing when she realized that she had no idea where the boys' shower was. However, it did make sense that it would be in the same location the girls' shower was on the other side of the tower. She headed up two more flights of stairs before she stopped at the third door, sighing in relief when she heard the distinct sound of water running.

Hermione had her hand on the knob when something else hit her, Ron would very likely be naked. She had seen him in such a state more than once, but it had been a while. She couldn't just walk in on him. If he showed up in the girls' shower, she'd be furious at him. Then again, this was Ron. He was far from shy; he showed his skin to just about anyone who wanted to look at it these days. Besides, it wasn't really new to her.

Hermione opened the door and winced when her bare feet touched the cold tile. She had only walked about three feet when Ron's voice echoed from the back of the room.

"I thought you were going to see Cho?"

Hermione froze. He obviously thought she was Harry, who else would walk into the boys shower at this time of night? She tried to think of something diplomatic to say, some gentle way of announcing her presence, but nothing came out. She didn't want to startle him, so she walked quietly towards the back, taking a deep breath when she reached the tiled wall that lead to the showers.

She stepped around the corner and stopped when she saw Ron. He had both his hands on the wall, his head hung low letting the hot water run over it. She was eternally thankful for the bench next to her, because otherwise she would have lost her footing and really embarrassed herself.

She sat down, unblinking as she looked at Ron. She had seen him naked before, but it had been over seven months ago, seven long months apparently, because he looked very different. God, he looked beautiful. Hermione didn't know if that was the right word for a man's form, but Lord did it fit.

His back was facing her, and all she saw was the expanse of it, hard cut muscles that flexed slightly with the movement of his hands on the wall. The powerful set of his broad shoulders. His long legs. His backside. She felt compelled to reach out to him.

It had been a bad idea to come, Hermione had surmised that instantly. She hadn't expected her reaction to seeing him to be so extreme.

"What are you --" Ron looked over his shoulder and stopped mid sentence when he spotted her. Hermione watched his eyes widen in reaction.

"I wanted to see if you were all right," Hermione blurted out when she saw just how shocked Ron looked.

He took his hands off the wall and turned back to the shower, sticking his face under the water for a long time before he lifted his head again, running his hands through his wet hair.

"Hermione, you realize you're in the boys' shower," Ron said, still facing the wall.

"Yes, I gathered that."

"And, you came up here to see if I was all right?"

"I was worried because of everything. I didn't know if you'd be upset."

He heaved a big sigh. "You shouldn't have come."

"Why?"

Ron didn't respond for a while. He placed his hands back on the wall, dipping his head back under the water twice before he spoke.

"If I wasn't okay, what did you plan to do about it?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but realized she hadn't planned that far ahead. Ron looked over his shoulder once more, gauging her response. He stared at her for a while before his shoulders slumped a little.

"Go to bed, Hermione. I'm fine," he sighed.

Hermione knew she should have got up and left, he'd given her a free exit, but she was rooted in the spot. She didn't want to leave. In fact, her body was screaming at her to stay. Her eyes flicked over him, running down his entire six-foot, four-inch length, unaware of him watching her. She felt the heat of the room magnify. Her mind was reeling from memories of how good it felt to be with him.

She had to fight her need to be close to him, to ease his pain, to reach out and run her fingers over the muscled flesh she'd once known so well. She tried to remind herself that Josh was her boyfriend, that he was gentle and kind, and. . .

"Fuck," Ron muttered.

She looked up to see his eyes narrowed. "That was rude."

"You think I'm rude? Some would argue that purposely walking in on a man while he's naked, then sitting there gawking at him wasn't too polite either, Miss Manners."

"I wasn't gawking."

"Yes, you were. . . and it affects me, Hermione. I'm not okay. I've had a really, really bad day. I'm not up to playing games with you. Now, why did you come?" Ron asked as he turned around.

Hermione's eyes widened. He hadn't been lying. She had affected him. She took in the front of him the same as she had the back, her eyes gliding down his body, stopping at one point, to look closer.

"Hermione?" Ron barked impatiently.

Her head snapped up, her voice was barely a whisper. "What?"

Ron walked up until he was standing in front of her. He reached down, grabbing her arms and pulled her into a standing position. Hermione's eyes were level with his chest, and she kept them trained there until he tilted her chin up to look at him.

"I'm not Josh."

The coldness and anger in his voice was enough to cool her ardor immediately. Hermione shoved against his chest, but he grabbed her arms as his lips claimed hers in a brutal kiss. She tried to turn her head but his hand came up behind her neck, lacing into her curls that were already damp from the steam in the room. A small sob escaped her when she felt the fire sear through her despite the anger. . . So, hot, so demanding that she stopped fighting and clung to his shoulders to keep from falling.

His tongue ran along the edge of her lips and she parted to him with out realizing it, swallowing his groan of pleasure. She forgot why she'd been pushing away. She forgot everything but the feel of him kissing her, the feel of being in his arms again.

She felt the heady sensation of his lips against her neck as his shaking hands pulled at the tie of her robe, opening it and pushing it down her arms to be forgotten on the floor. The hot slide of his tongue was too much for Hermione and she let out a small moan, tilting her head to the side.

"God, I've missed you. I've missed you so much," Ron whispered into her hair. "Tell me, Hermione. Tell me you want this. . . Tell me I'm not the only one."

"I want this. . . You're not the only one," Hermione said. She held his face in her hands and brought his lips back to hers, kissing him deeply, her tongue sliding into his mouth.

She let her hand run over his hard chest that was still hot, still wet, enjoying the feel of his skin under her fingers. She trailed kisses over his jaw line and down his neck. His taste, his smell, it all overwhelmed her. He was so masculine, and she cared for him deeply. . . More than she'd ever be willing to admit.

Ron's fingers went to her nightshirt and fumbled with the first button, but his patience was short. Hermione gasped at the sound of ripping fabric and buttons bouncing off tile. He didn't care, just simply tugged at the destroyed nightshirt until she lowered her arms and let him pull it off, throwing it to the side. His lips moved down to her neck as he fell to his knees in front of her, seemingly oblivious to the cold, hard tile. His rough hands left a trail of fire across her hips and thighs as he slid her pyjama bottoms off, leaving her completely bare to him.

He gave her body a raking gaze. She was different too. Her figure also showed signs of grueling War Mage training and for some odd reason, she felt none of the shame she did when she was with Josh. Instinctively she knew that Ron liked the changes, that they appealed to him. So it wasn't surprising when his lips went to her stomach, his tongue tracing over the lines of her abdominal muscles.

Hermione arched into him then, moaning as he wrapped one hand around to her back and his lips moved up to the valley of her breasts. He traced the curve of one with his tongue and Hermione took sharp breath as he took the taunt peak into his mouth. His teeth, his tongue, his fingers that danced across her skin, they were all doing things she'd thought were an exaggeration. All this time, she'd told herself it hadn't been real. It hadn't been this good, but it had. It was even better.

Ron pulled her back down to the bench, bringing her eye level with him. He looked at her in amazement, as though uncertain if she would disappear at any moment. His lips recaptured hers in a searing kiss, more demanding this time. She was easily lost to him as his hand trailed over her abdomen and across her thigh. She gasped in sweet agony when she felt his fingers slide between her moist folds, tantalizing her.

Hermione broke the kiss, letting her head fall back against the wall and arching her hips into his hand. She squeezed her eyes shut as Ron's expert touch sent her to an even higher level of ecstasy, making her ache for more of him. His lips traveled over her skin, branding her, teasing her, making her mindless with desire. Little mewing noises were coming from the back of her throat, the ones she'd forgotten she knew how to make.

Hermione felt his breath hot against her thigh, and then it rose higher, brushing against her core. Oh god, how could she have forgot all this. The intimacy. The closeness. The spiraling heart that coiled in her stomach, and spread outwards, blocking out everything but mindless need. Until this moment she hadn't been able to see past the heartache.

Without thinking, she opened herself to the burning feel of his mouth. Hermione moaned and her head whipped back against the wall as his tongue darted against her. Her fingers laced into Ron's hair, holding him to her center that throbbed with the need for release.

It had been too long, the feelings were too intense, and Hermione felt all her senses overwhelm almost at once as wave after wave of bliss flowed over her. She was shaking, grasping for breath, clinging to his shoulders in the need to feel something solid when pleasure--pure and explosive--burst around her.

It took Hermione a while to recover, to open her eyes again and look at Ron. Idly, she reached out to brush a stray lock of wet hair off his forehead. She let her hand drift down to his cheek, then slide to back of his neck as she brought his lips to hers, making Ron groan as she tasted herself on him. She deliberately deepened the kiss, and Ron's grip on her hips became tighter, almost painful.

She thought of saying something, but didn't. It was obvious neither one of them wanted to do anything to break the spell that had woven around them, pulling them closer together with tiny threads of love and pain. Threads that were almost impossible to pull apart.

Hermione broke away from the kiss to trail her lips down his throat, stopping at a particular soft spot behind his ear. She ran her hands through his hair, dragging her small nails over the tender skin on back of his neck before venturing down to explore the contours of his chest. Finally, she did speak, but it was whispers of nothingness against his flesh. Things that she remembered he liked hearing, statements that made her heart rate speed up and sent darts of thrilling anticipation through her.

Somewhere along the way, she had managed to drag Ron up to the bench and climb over him. While still whispering terribly wicked things to him, she moved herself against him, just a brush of herself over his arousal, and Ron's breath hissed out of him. His head was leaning back against the wall; his fingers were tangled into the soft curls at the back of her neck. His eyes had been squeezed shut, as he obviously tried to remain in some sort of control, but her action snapped that and his eyes flew open. He lifted her head up to face him, his gaze burning into to her, a deep fathomless blue.

"Tell me what you want, Hermione," his voice was so low it sounded almost as if he had to struggle to find it.

Hermione leaned in closer, her lips just a breath away from his ear. "I want you to fuck me."

"Oh, God," Ron gasped, his self-control shattering, his hands grasping her hips to bring her against him.

And then Hermione was lost too. He was sliding into her deep and hard. The feel of him buried in her, filling her completely, was overwhelming. She ignored the flicker of pain that came from being unaccustomed to his size; she was too caught up in the other sensations that were flooding through her.

They moved together, both intoxicated by the slide of skin against skin. The steam from the shower surrounded them, the moist heat adding an almost dizzying surreal effect.

When it became too much, when Hermione felt everything rise to a peak, she gave in. Her movements over him were erratic, and he pulled her tighter against him thrusting upwards at the same time, hitting just the right spot to sending her crashing over the edge.

Ron quickly brought her lips to his, muffling the throaty moans that were escaping her, and quelling his own as he tensed beneath her. Hermione had both of her hands on his shoulders and she could feel all the tension leave them as he spilled himself into her.

When Ron seemed to feel it was safe, he eased his grip on her hair, breaking the kiss to lean against the wall and regain his breath. Hermione fell against him, burying her face in the crook of neck, shuddering occasionally as he ran his rough hands over the sensitive skin of her back.

They remained like that for a long while. Long enough for Hermione to start to notice the stickiness that was created from making love in a steam filled room. She could feel the sweat on her body. Her tongue darted out to brush against Ron's neck, noting that it now had a slightly salty taste.

She pulled up to see Ron totally relaxed with his head resting against the tiled wall, his eyes closed in a near sleeping state. After a day like they had, it wasn't surprising that Ron looked more exhausted than she'd ever seen him. The attack by the Death Eaters had been both physically and mentally draining, especially for Ron whose physical exertion had far exceeded she and Harry's. He could probably sleep for a week.

She ran one finger over his lips, causing him to blink awake and look at her.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked softly.

"I am now," Ron said, reaching up to pull her back down against his chest, running his fingers lazily through her hair.

"But you weren't?"

"No, I felt like I'd completely lost touch with myself, that I didn't have any feelings left."

"Why would you think that?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"Because, I couldn't care less that I killed those Death Eaters. . . I still don't care," Ron shrugged.

Hermione blinked in shock. Surely, he must care a little. These were human lives they were talking about. But, as she tilted her head to look closely at him, she had to admit that no signs of remorse showed on his face.

"Then what's changed?" Hermione couldn't help but ask; after all, he just admitted that he still didn't give a damn.

"I realized that I have at least one feeling left. . ."

"And what feeling is that?"

Ron looked down at her sadly. "Being in love with you."


	10. Consequences

Five days. . .

That’s how long it had been. Five agonizing days since Hermione had appeared in the boys shower, looking like a mirage with the stream swirling around her. Five days since he’d finally touched her, tasted her, made love to her again. Five fucking days that she’d spent pretending that the whole thing hadn’t happened.

He had sorely underestimated Hermione. Underestimated the entire female population in general. Whoever said they were the weaker sex was a fool. Yet, even as he sulked, a smile crossed his face. The memory of her sleekly muscled body made his blood heat up. Even more, the memory of her in battle, fierce, a warrior goddess, made his trousers tighten uncomfortably. He was sick perhaps, but there was something about the way she handled a knife. She really could defend herself, better then most men. Damned, if that didn’t appeal to him. Everything she did, he found sexy.

A man like Josh could never appreciate her.

Ron looked up from his food to where Hermione sat. She was talking with Josh, betraying her housemates by eating with the Ravenclaws. She’d eaten at that table for every meal since the night she’d come to him.

“Do you think she’s avoiding us?”

“Yes.” Ron said, moving his concentration back to his dinner and not bothering to expand on Harry’s observation.

“Did you say something to hack her off?”

Ron shrugged indifferently, seeing Josh’s face in his mind while he stabbed at his chicken viciously.

“Are you okay?”

Ron just looked at Harry belligerently, his mouth full of chicken. It was a stupid question. He was far from okay. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He felt more than okay when he’d been with Hermione. He felt vibrant and alive. Maybe that was why having her turn from him without so much as a backwards glance hurt so intensely.

A part of Ron felt like he deserved the crushing blow of watching Hermione go to Josh after spending the night letting him make love to her. What had he ever done to deserve happiness? Nothing really. What really bothered him was how Hermione was acting, that she was capable of dismissing him so easily. It was a cold, calculated move, and it broke Ron’s heart to see Hermione do something like that.

He’d done that to her. The guilt was crushing, weighing heavily on his chest. He’d already decided it was a mistake to be with her again. As incredible as it’d been, he hadn’t needed such a sharp reminder of what he’d lost. If she’d decided to stay with him, it would have been different, but she hadn’t. It was quite clear that she wished to remain with Josh.

Ron looked at Harry, noting that there was a hurt expression on his face as he looked at Hermione. All their nerves were raw after what happened at the Shrieking Shack. Harry had killed two death eaters that day. Ron knew that it bothered him and having Hermione avoiding them didn’t help. Her opinion mattered a lot to Harry. He probably thought she was judging him.

“I’ll talk to her,” Ron found himself saying, hating that their problems were affecting Harry.

Harry turned back to him, looking a little flustered for being so obvious about his feelings. “No, don’t bother her. She probably just needs space. I. . . I can’t blame her. We’re not the best of company.”

Murderers. . . Harry didn’t say it, but the accusation was there.

“They deserved it, Harry. They were attacking Hermione. Do you know what they would have done to her?” Ron whispered vehemently, reliving the sickening fear for a brief moment.

Harry’s eyes met his, haunted green that for a moment showed every nuisance of the burden he carried. “Yeah, I know. . . but, that doesn’t make what we did right.”

“They’re the ones who are wrong here. We’re the good side.”

Harry shrugged and got up, casting one last glance at Hermione before he picked up his school bag. “I don’t know, Ron. I don’t think there is a good side anymore.”

 

~*~

 

Finding time to talk to Hermione alone turned out to be harder than Ron had thought. They still trained together, but she managed to be in the company of Harry, Sirius, or Daniels at all times. Always distant, always in control, coolly efficient in everything that she did. It drove Ron mad. He couldn’t express it of course, but the fury boiled under the surface.

Finally, Ron asked Harry if he could borrow the Marauders Map in the hopes of catching Hermione alone. He saw his opportunity one night after dinner, noticing that Hermione was on the Quidditch Pitch by herself. Ron had to light his wand as he stormed out of the castle and onto the grounds and he almost wanted to believe that the map was somehow faulty. Hermione was too smart to be outside alone at night. She knew first hand the dangers that it presented.

The map wasn’t faulty. Ron spotted her running around the pitch, her form illuminated by the light of several large lanterns place strategically along her path. He watched for a few minutes, admiring the way she moved. She made running look so effortless. The only indication of her exertion was the puffs of breath that could be seen in the cold October air.

He walked up to the Quidditch stands, and leaned casually against them. Hermione drew closer and he saw that her hair stuck to her forehead and neck. Her cheeks were rosy and her skin shimmered in a fine sheen of sweet. She’d been out there for a while.

Ron knew she’d spotted him, but she gave no indication of it, instead she speed up. He had no choice but to run after her. He pulled his robes off, and tossed them on the stands. It had been storming on and off again all day and the moisture in the air made it colder than he’d anticipated, it was sharp and biting against his skin. He didn’t have to wonder why Hermione was running so furiously.

It wasn’t hard catching up with her. She’d obviously worn herself down a little. Her breath puffed out of her more frequently, and as he neared, he could hear her sharp breathing.

“What do you want?” she said between breaths, not stopping as he came up beside her.

“To talk. . . Will you stop?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she gasped out, not looking at him.

“How long have you been out here?”

She didn’t answer for a bit, and Ron got the feeling that she was too focused on breathing to speak.

“Since just. . . just after dinner,” she finally said, not missing a step despite her obvious exhaustion.

Thunder sounded in distance, indicating that it would soon storm again. It was fucking cold out, and Hermione had just admitted to being outside almost two hours. That was insane. He couldn’t even hazard a guess at how many miles she must have ran. She was going to make herself sick.

He reached out and wrapped both his hands around her waist, stumbling from the force of stopping her so suddenly. She reacted immediately, fighting him. He had to lift her up, knowing that she’d be able to angle him off her if her feet were touching the ground, but when her foot connected painfully with his shin, he realized that wasn’t such a great idea either.

“Let me go, you big oaf!” Hermione shrieked as she jammed her elbow into the center of his chest, knocking the air out of him. “Put me down!”

She wasn’t even half his size, but Ron could barely hold onto her. With as a tired as he knew Hermione was, you couldn’t tell. She was yelling at him, saying words that he’d only heard leave her mouth a handful of times. She aimed her jabs at the places she knew would hurt the most and Ron realized he’d better get a handle on the situation before she kicked him somewhere really sensitive.

Just then, the heavens opened up and poured down, drenching them both almost instantly. She was slippery now and he had no choice but to fall onto the grass. Ron rolled them both over until she was beneath him. He held her there using his weight as leverage, and struggled until he’d managed to pin both of her arms above her. He grasped her wrists firmly and pushed them into the muddy grass.

Finally, Hermione stopped fighting and blinked through the rain to glare at him as both their chests heaved. Ron felt more like he’d wrestled a hippogriff than a scrap of a girl. His shirt was sticking to him, icy cold and uncomfortable, and it didn’t help his bad mood.

“Merlin, Hermione, what the hell is the matter with you?”

“You attacked me!” she yelled indignantly as she struggled once again to pull her arms free of his grasp.

“I was just trying to talk to you! This is the only way I can get you to listen, you stubborn wench,” Ron growled, squeezing her wrists tighter when he felt her start to slip through his fingers.

“Ouch! That hurts,” she squeaked, tilting her head to look up at her hands.

“Then stop fighting.”

“Let me go!”

“No, I need to talk to you. You’ve been avoiding Harry and I all week.”

“I’ve been avoiding you not Harry.”

“Does he know that? Did you tell him that it’s just me you don’t want anything to do with?”

She stopped struggling, looking up at him in surprise.

“His feelings are hurt,” Ron went on matter-of-factly. “You saw him kill two of those bastards and then you don’t speak to him for a week. He thinks you’re judging him.”

“He knows I’d never do that,” Hermione said, looking suddenly guilty.

“Does he?”

Hermione opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, she sighed. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

Ron nodded, but didn’t feel much better. Harry’s feelings weren’t the only ones hurt. Against his better judgment, he decided to get everything settled. “And why were avoiding me?”

“I think you know why?” Hermione said, looking past his shoulder.

“You came to me that night.”

She looked back to him, indignant. “I never planned for that to happen.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t remember forcing you. You were very willing,” Ron said, pushing the memory of just how willing she was to the back of his mind.

“You took advantage of me,” Hermione snapped, renewing her effort to break free of him.

Ron laughed. “I think you got it the wrong way around. If anyone was taken advantage of, it was me.”

“Oh, and how do you see that?”

Ron narrowed his eyes at her, no longer feeling like the situation was funny. “I’ve admitted I love you, Hermione. You don’t give a shit about me. Who do you think is suffering more from what happened that night?”

“I cheated on Josh. Do you know how that makes me feel?” Hermione choked as she turned her head to the side to avoid looking at him.

He felt a familiar wave of nausea pour over him. He clenched his jaw against it, suppressing the urge to ease her pain. He drew in a cooling breath to clear his head, and then turned to stare down at Hermione. There was a streak of mud across her cheek and her hair was caked in it. There was no reason for her to look appealing as she blinked up at him through the rain, but she did.

Ron took another deep breath, trying to get his raging emotions under control. “Yeah, Hermione, I know how that feels.”

“I’m not going to feel sorry for you,” she said, pulling once more at her arms.

“I don’t want your sympathy. In fact, I don’t want anything from you,” he growled, feeling his temper flare.

Hermione snorted disbelievingly, and that just angered Ron further. He was sick of being in the vulnerable position all the time.

“I don’t know why I bother with you at all. There are lots of accommodating women out there who don’t mind my attentions.”

Her eyes flashed in what Ron could have sworn was jealousy, but she lashed out anyway. “Why don’t you go to them then and leave me the hell alone.”

“I will! And, be sure to have loads of fun with your lover boy, Josh.”

“I always do,” she said haughtily, as though she wasn’t pinned to the ground and covered in mud.

Now it was Ron’s turn to laugh in disbelief. “Oh yeah, then why did you almost rip my hair out at the roots when I put my mouth on you? It seemed like it’d been a mighty long time.”

Hermione’s gasped. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, I think it is. . . and it’s a shame. Poor Josh doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Ron said in a low voice, unable to resist the allure of taunting her. “If you want I could have a talk with him. I could tell him how incredible you taste, just like sex and need. . . Or, about how you feel when you come against my lips”

“You’re crude and disgusting.”

“But, you still want me,” Ron said with certainty, recognizing the desire that poured over him as hers. “That’s what you were running from, wasn’t it, Hermione? Wanting me. That’s what you were fighting.”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head in denial.

“Liar,” he challenged. His pride stung mercilessly by her rejection of him. He needed this victory. “Stop being a coward. You’re better than that.”

“I’m not a coward.”

“Prove it. Admit that you want me.”

“I can’t love you, Ron,” she said, looking stricken all of a sudden. “I just can’t.”

Hearing it so blatantly, hurt, but Ron refused to let her see it. “That’s not what I asked?”

“Don’t you understand, you daft idiot? I don’t want to want you!” she yelled her voice hoarse in frustration.

“Well, guess what, princess, I don’t want to want you either. . .But, I do,” Ron snapped, realizing too late that he’d admitted too much.

Hermione just started back at him for a long moment, and something in that look broke him, tearing down the last of his already weak defenses.

“Oh, fuck it,” he swore as he leaned down and captured her lips.

Ron kissed her fiercely as she arched into him. Hermione’s hands strained once again for freedom, and this time he released them to reach down and cup her face. His thumbs brushed at the rain on her cheeks, and he felt her fingers tangle in his hair, holding his mouth to hers.

Still kissing her deeply, his hand slid over her smooth stomach to the button on her trousers and undid it. Hermione’s mouth broke away from his when his fingers slipped past her cotton knickers, and he felt for himself how much she wanted him. He stroked her, unable to resist the feel of her, so tight and wet. Her head thrashed to the side, exposing her neck. Instinctively, Ron leaned down and sucked on the soft patch of skin over her pulse point, feeling her desire pour over him even more strongly, drugging him and pulling him into it.

“Oh god,” Hermione moaned, thrusting her hips against his hand.

“Say you want me,” he demanded, and she bit at her lip, hesitating. “Say it!”

“I want you,” Hermione gasped as she squeezed her eyes shut in defeat. “I ache, I want you so bad.”

With those few words Ron started to pull at her clothes, determined to prove that her want was well paced. Shoes, socks, shirts, trousers, they all splashed in the mud as he and Hermione tossed them aside carelessly, not stopping until they were both naked. He gazed at her hungrily, watching the rain as it rolled down the valley of her breasts to pool at her stomach.

“Someone will see,” Hermione whispered, reaching up to cover herself as she shivered from the cold.

“Nah,” he said, moving her hands away and trailing his lips up over the curve of her breast. He laved his tongue over the puckered tip before he looked up at her and smiled. “Who’s mad enough to be out here in the rain? It’s fucking freezing out.”

Her laugh turned into a choked moan as he pulled one taunt nipple into his mouth. She was so beautiful, and the smell of rain and earth made Ron feel almost primitive. Her body fascinated him. He liked the muscles that quivered on her flat stomach as he kissed his way over it, admired the smooth clean lines in her legs as they fell apart in anticipation. He sucked hard at the silky skin on the inside of her thigh, marking her, laying claim to what was his first.

“Ron, please,” Hermione moaned desperately as she laced her fingers into his hair and guided him to her moist brown curls, silently begging for release

Despite the wind and rain, her center was warm, inviting, tasting of sex and Hermione. She writhed beneath him, her grasp on his hair becoming almost painful as his tongue darted against her. Hermione’s moans fed his soul, making his own mindless need excruciating. When she reached her climax, Ron’s desperation was so sharp he could swear that he felt the waves of rolling pleasure spear through him as she quivered against his lips.

He moved over her, and reached down to bring her leg high against his waist, hooking his arm under it as he plunged into her deeply. Hermione’s back arched, her nails were sharp against his shoulders as she pulled him even closer to her, seemingly oblivious to his weight.

She was so tight, so hot around him. “God, you feel good,” he groaned, unable to resist the ancient pull to move inside her. “So, fucking good.”

Everything was so right, so effortless. Their bodies were in exquisite harmony with one another. Hermione’s sharp gasps punctuated each thrust as he moved in her, hard and deep. Every second he was with her made his heartbeat pound louder in his ears, blending with the rolling thunder. He no longer noticed the icy rain beating against his back. All he could feel was her, so passionate, so beautiful, and all his for the moment.

Finally, the hot tide of passion that raged through both of them became too much. Hermione pitched beneath him, gasping his name as the ecstasy pulled her down once more, and Ron had no choice but to follow her into oblivion. He buried his face against her neck, groaning as he spilled himself into her, and feeling like she’d taken a little more of his soul as the bliss ripped through him.

Ron was reluctant to let her go. He didn’t want to leave the warm confines of Hermione’s body as they tried to gain their breath back, but he was aware of how much he weighed, and grudgingly rolled off her. He reached over and pulled her to him, noticing that she was shaking from cold and exhaustion.

“We need to head in,” he said as he lifted his head to look at her. “We’ll catch our deaths out here.”

Hermione didn’t respond, just continued shivering. She didn’t even complain when Ron gathered her to him and stood, carrying her to the changing rooms at the end of the pitch.

He’d had the presence of mind to grab both their wands, and he summoned their clothes once he set her on one of the benches. Then, he set about lighting the touches around the room. With a warm glow around them, Ron pulled Hermione into the showers. The hot water was like heaven on his skin. He hadn’t realized just how truly cold he was. Hermione too, seemed to come back to life under the spray. Color returned to her blue lips, and her cheeks gained a rosy hue again.

She was looking at him as they stood close together, both still trying to get warm while sharing a single showerhead. Her hand reached out, smoothing over the muscles on his chest before she unexpectedly buried her face against it.

“I’m a terrible person,” she mumbled. “How am I going to tell Josh about this?”

Ron sighed. He knew exactly what she was going through. Cheating on someone you cared about wasn’t something to be proud of. Hermione was better than that--better than him. She didn’t deserve any of this.

“Just break up with him.”

Hermione tiled her head to look up at him, grief masking her features. “I can’t do that.”

“Why? It’s obvious that he can’t give you what you need.” He saw the look on her face, and could almost predict what her explanation would be. “Never mind, I don’t want to hear it.”

Ron turned his back on her. He couldn’t believe that what Hermione and Josh had was more than what she shared with him, that she was willing to give everything up just to be with that Nancy boy.

After a moment, Hermione’s arms snaked around his waist, pulling him to her as her forehead rested against his back “I do care about you, Ron. . . Probably more than I should.”

He didn’t respond, and she tugged on his arm, making him reluctantly turn to face her. Hermione stared up at him, biting at her lip as though contemplating him. He knew that look. It was plagued with guilt. He was about to tell her that she didn’t owe him anything. That he was a big lad and could handle things, but instead Ron sucked in a hard breath when she suddenly dropped to her knees in front of him. His memory was keen and his body responded almost instantly to what that action implied.

She stared at him closely, watching him get fully hard. A small moan escaped him as she ran her finger along his shaft in reverence. The feral look in her eyes caused anticipation to coil in his stomach, making him forget that he was upset.

“Be honest with me, Ron,” Hermione said, tilting her head back to gaze up at him. “Have you ever let any of those other girls taste you?”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No, never”

“Do you want me to?”

He could only manage a small nod, but it seemed to be enough. Ron watched in muted awe as Hermione ran her tongue along his length and then took him slowly into her mouth.

“Oh, god. . . oh, shit, Hermione,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut at the image she presented.

Ron hadn’t been lying; he’d never allowed another woman to pleasure him like that. It was only with Hermione that he had allowed himself to be so vulnerable. He’d almost forgot how erotic it was to see her on her knees before him with her hands and mouth torturing him.

He reached down, his fingers tangling in her wet curls. The pleasure reached a fevered pitch, and Ron realized that his only hope for sanity in his life was to win Hermione back. He simply couldn’t live with out her. The closeness they shared was sacred and special. She may not realize it now, but he was certain that one day she would.

He was counting on it. . .


	11. Fervor

Hermione Granger simply couldn't resist Ron Weasley. No matter how hard she tried. No matter how much she knew, without question, that he was bad for her. Very bad. But, that night in the showers had been a catalyst, igniting the spark of something deeper and more consuming than ever before between them. For the first time in her life, she had found herself helpless. Drawn to Ron like a moth to a proverbial flame. Unable to resist, no matter how hard she tried.

Oh, and she had tried. And she had to admit that even Ron had tried. They trained harder, studied harder . . . most nights to the point of exhaustion. They never were alone together and they took pains to never, ever touch. Hermione was certain that Sirius knew something was going on as both of them visibly blanched each time they had to duel one another. Hermione redoubled her efforts with Josh, trying desperately to recreate even an bit of the magic she felt with Ron and sometimes, even for months at a time, it had worked. She was happy with Josh, Ron was happy with whomever, and they somehow convinced themselves that they were simply friends, good buddies, classmates and dueling partners.

But then something would always happen. Sometimes big, sometimes small and they would become magnetized, inextricably linked. And the need to be together would become all-consuming, irresistible and overwhelming. It was always incredible, and they were always shaken with guilt after.

All their efforts had been in vain. Josh was gone. His words had been hurtful in his letter to her, harsh in their observation that she was not the woman he had thought she was. Hermione could only fathom a guess at what he'd seen on the platform the day of the battle. And with the pictures in the paper, well, she could hardly blame him for not wanting to bring her home to mother. What normal man would?

Love really wasn't her forte, Hermione mused, as she blinked fully awake, and became startlingly aware of the warm male body beneath her. Her breasts were flattened against his hard chest, her legs straddling his hips, and one large hand rested on her lower back, while the other one hung limply off the side of his bed.

Ron needed a bigger bed.

She tried to gingerly move off him, but the hand on her back tightened it's hold, pressing her against him as his hips arched up, and a low moan came from the back of his throat. He shifted, and Hermione could feel the hard length of him slide hotly against her stomach as he moved.

"Ron, no. . ."

"Hmm, just once more," he mumbled, sounding far more asleep than awake, and Hermione knew that it was probably true.

The cocky bastard probably could shag in his sleep.

"We've got to get Harry at the hospital," she protested, feeling panicked when he wouldn't release her. "We've already had too long of a lie in."

Ron grunted in response and ran his fingers over her naked back to her hips. He gripped her waist and ground himself against her once more. Sharp tingles shimmered from where he touched, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.

"Your family," she choked, knowing that they'd be getting up soon. "They'll find out."

"Fuck them," he said as he let his hands trail down to her backside. "You've a great arse, so firm and sexy."

She laughed, Ron's voice was so sleep fogged, his words sounded programmed. His movements were still lazy and sluggish with sleep and his rough edges were smoothed considerably because of it. Hermione was loath to admit how appealing she found him like this. It was easier to keep her barriers up when he was hardened and on edge. Right now he seemed too much like the boy she had once loved.

"Ron, you have to get up."

"I am up," he said, thrusting against her to emphasize just exactly what he meant.

She made a sound of annoyance and went to push off him, but only succeeded in allowing one of Ron's hands to sneak between their bodies and slide to her center. He wasted no time in slipping his fingers past her moist folds, and Hermione cursed her traitorous body.

"Mmmm. . .Wet," he observed, finally opening his eyes to look at her triumphantly. "I thought you wanted to go to the hospital."

"I do want to go to the hospital!" she snapped, and then bit at her lip to ignore the throb his feather light teasing caused.

"Nuh uh. . . " he taunted, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. "You want my cock."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, that's charming."

"I thought so," he agreed as he continued to trace the outline of her sex, torturing her with just the hint of a touch. "Beg me to fuck you."

Hermione let out an incredulous laugh, there was no way in hell she'd-

Ron thrust two fingers deep inside her, and she gasped sharply, feeling a white-hot thrill of pleasure shoot through her.

"Beg me," Ron groaned. "I love it when you do that."

His fingers thrust in and out again, and then curved to press against that spot inside her that always caused Hermione to jerk against him automatically. Stars were starting to explode behind her eyelids. Her pulse was pounding, pooling at her center, making her ache for him.

It had been so long since they'd spent an entire night together, she'd almost forgot just how dangerous Ron was, sated and lazy in the morning. It was as if all his inhibitions (what few he had) fell away, and the mysterious sexual energy he wielded was much stronger because of it. It vibrated off him so strongly Hermione could almost taste it.

She frowned suddenly as her mind started to cloud over and the hum of desire willed her to do what he wanted. She'd experienced this sensation with him more than once. It was almost like being under the Imperious Curse, only less evasive and far more pleasurable. She'd always attributed it to lust, but now she wasn't so sure.

"Ron, you haven't been playing around with sex magic, have you?"

He looked at her in shock.

"No, why?" he said, sounding hopeful. "Do you know some?"

"Sex magic is illegal," she said in a voice sharp with the strain it took to resist him.

Ron sighed. "Too bad."

He laced his fingers into her hair and pulled her head back until her neck was exposed. He leaned forward and ran his tongue from the hallow of her throat all the way up to her ear, making her shiver as the darts of pleasure ricocheted through her

Ron renewed his efforts between her legs. His thumb rubbed over her sensitive nub, and at the same time he sucked sharply on the pulse point at the base of her neck.

Hermione moaned and immediately arched into him. Blinding need sunk into her veins, starting at the point where Ron's lips touched her neck and leaking into every pore of her body. It was dazzling in it's intensity. The ache was so pronounced that she felt like she might die if he wasn't filling her that instant. She knew in that instant that she would say anything he wanted, no matter how dirty.

"Fuck me," she gasped, frantically shifting herself until he was poised at her entrance. "Please. . ."

Ron gripped her hips, and pushed her down on his erection, while at the same time thrusting up roughly to bury himself inside her. A sharp cry escaped past her parted lips at the feel of his hard, silken heat sliding into her. Even the sting of too much sex faded in the blur of pleasure that came from joining with him.

Ron released his hold on her neck as his head whipped back against the pillow, and his whole body arched up to meet hers. Hermione couldn't resist opening her eyes to see the expression of ecstasy written on Ron's face. It was the most vulnerable she'd seen him in a while, and even in her pleasure-clouded state, the image shook her.

Hermione pushed herself against him, taking him even deeper inside her. She squeezed her eyes shut again, willing herself to feel nothing but the sensations coursing through her body. This she knew how to do. This she could handle. The rest was too much.

Ron was never one to lay back and relax when they were together. Even sleepy and exhausted, he arched up and met her body stroke for stroke as his hands ran over her muscled frame, touching all the right places to push her quickly over the edge, and bringing himself there in the process. They knew each other too well and it didn't take long for completion to explode around both of them in waves of shivery bliss.

The bed was so small that afterwards they simply stayed connected. Skin to sticky skin, with their heartbeats thumping roughly against each other as they lay pressed together.

"I like waking up with you," Ron said after a bit, his voice still rough from sex as he stretched out his arms and grabbed the headboard behind him. "We need to do this more often."

Hermione laughed, still feeling the delicious after effects of their time together. She knew from experience that it could last for hours, and she didn't feel like ruining it with worry. She'd deal with the rest later.

"You're all right for someone who's not a morning person," she agreed teasingly.

"All right?! I had you begging." His face formed a dreamy expression, and he grinned. "I love when you tell me to 'fuck you.' You should say 'fuck' more often. It sounds so good coming from your mouth."

"It'd ruin the thrill," Hermione observed dryly, allowing herself the luxury of staring at the muscles in his arms, beautifully on display due to his grip on the headboard. "It's taboo. That's what you like about it. If I said it all the time it wouldn't be exciting anymore."

"Always analyzing," Ron sighed. " I swear sometimes you make my brain hurt."

"Good, that makes two of us. Lord knows, I've had more than a few headaches attributed to you," Hermione said in her usual chastising voice. "So, do you think we ought to go get Harry now, or shall we leave him there another day or two?"

Ron groaned in protest, but shifted so Hermione could get off him, and then moved to get up himself. "I guess we'll have to go get him. I wouldn't let my worse enemy rot there a day longer than they had to."

And with that, they set out for the day, taking their showers, dressing quickly, and dodging the knowing stares of Ron's brothers and Ginny on their way out.

 

~*~

 

Hermione supposed she should be in a good mood since Harry was out of the hospital and looking almost as good as new. But as the day lingered on, the high she'd been on from her night with Ron faded, and she started to worry.

She hated to admit it, but Josh had offered her protection from Ron. Even when she slipped and slept with him, her relationship with Josh prevented her from offering Ron any sort of commitment.

Josh had been wonderfully mundane. He presented no threat to Hermione. He was an easy, low maintenance boyfriend, and she liked it that way. She may not be heartbroken over the breakup, but she was thoroughly put out about it. It really complicated her life at a time when the last thing she needed was complications.

Hermione watched Ron wearily most of the day, seeing the spring in his step that hadn't been there in a long time as he relaxed, and spent time with his brothers and Harry. She tried to read as a distraction, and even allowed Ginny to style her hair.

She had to force herself to listen while Ginny chattered on about girl things as she wove tiny summer flowers into Hermione's short curls. She really had sunk low to subject herself to this torture just to avoid Ron.

"Why don't you let me paint your nails, too," Ginny said, pausing in her work to reach for Hermione's hand. "They'd look much better, even if they are so short."

"No! I already look silly."

"You look beautiful. You have a gorgeous face. It's a shame that your hair is always falling into your eyes."

Hermione snorted, looking at her reflection with disdain. Ginny had clipped the top part of her hair back, so that her short brown curls framed her face and curled around her ears. Her features were plainly visible, making Hermione feel exposed. Tiny white and pink flowers were littered through out the mass of waves, hiding in tiny braids that Hermione knew would eventually tangle when she tried to take them out. What a horrible waste of time, and all this because she couldn't bear to see Ron so happy, knowing she was going to have to set him straight eventually.

"Are you going to tell me what you're upset about?" Ginny asked casually, as she worked on another tiny braid.

"Who says I'm upset?"

"Call it a hunch," Ginny said, stopping to tuck a white flower into the braid she was weaving. "It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with my brother, would it?"

"Our relationship is just so complex," Hermione sighed, not knowing why she was admitting it. Ginny was easy to talk to and Hermione needed an outlet, even if she was Ron's sister. "I don't want to hurt him, but I can't commit to him the way he wants me to."

Ginny stopped braiding her hair and lifted her head, meeting Hermione's eyes in the mirror. "I can understand why you're afraid of committing to him, but you have to understand that Ron was going through a very hard time when he slept with Lavender. He was. . . confused."

"Ginny, Ron hasn't changed much since then. . . Do you honestly believe that he'd be able to stay faithful in a monogamous relationship?"

"I think he has as much of a chance to make up for past mistakes as you do," Ginny said, arching one amber eyebrow at Hermione. "I know you and Ron were sleeping together while you were with Josh."

Hermione lowered her eyes and pulled absentmindedly on a hangnail. "See, I told you things were complex. It never felt like cheating. . . .We're so comfortable with each other, it's like a natural extension of our friendship."

"Then, what would be the harm in trying to commit to each other again? Ron's older; more settled than he was back then. He might surprise you."

Hermione shook her head. "Sex and commitment are different. If we committed to each other, I don't think either of us could stand another betrayal. Our friendship is too important to risk."

Ginny pursed her lips, looking remarkably like her mum for a second. "Just be careful. Ron is more vulnerable then he lets on. If you keep pushing him away, the day may come when you can't get him back."

A dozen different arguments were on the tip of Hermione's tongue, but she found that she couldn't give voice to any of them, so she stayed silent until Ginny finally just shrugged and went back to braiding her hair.

 

By dinnertime Hermione was so lost in thought she had all but forgotten the mess Ginny had made of her hair until she ran into Ron. He paused on the stairs as she walked out of Ginny's room, staring at her with his mouth hanging open, before he doubled over and started laughing.

"Oh, shut it!" she snapped, turning her back on him.

"I was wondering what you and Ginny were in there doing for so long. . .I thought you might have been talking about blokes or something," Ron said, wrinkling his nose as he tried to choke back the rest of his laughter. Hermione wasn't impressed and she headed down to dinner without looking back. "Oh, come on. . .I'm just surprised. It looks. . .nice."

Ron trailed after her all the way down the stairs, and grabbed her arm when they reached the living room, stopping her escape.

"Let go of me, Ron."

When he refused, she stomped on his toe. Ron yelped and released her instantly.

"Fuck, Hermione!" he said, hopping awkwardly as he inspected his bare foot. "You can be such a wench sometimes."

"Serves you right for making fun of me!"

She took advantage of his distraction and walked off, intent on getting to the table, but she was delayed when Fred and George tumbled out of the kitchen, one after the other. They stopped to let Hermione walk by.

"I like your hair," Fred said, winking at her.

"Very becoming," George added, reaching out to grab her hand as Hermione arched an eyebrow at both of them.

George leaned down and was about to kiss her hand when Ron came around the corner glaring menacingly at his brothers.

"Bugger off. . . Both of you!"

"You have to forgive our brother. . . Just because he doesn't appreciate it when a woman takes the time and effort to make herself lovely, doesn't mean we don't," Fred said, looking at Ron smugly.

"Sometimes we wonder if he's really related," George said, kissing her hand in spite of Ron's protest. "If you ever get tired of the git. . .You know where my room is."

"I said fuck off!"

"Ronald Weasley!"

Mrs. Weasley had come out of the kitchen and was gaping at Ron. The bowl of salad she was holding slipped in her grip, and would have crashed to the ground if Fred hadn't dashed up and caught it.

"I'll get this for you, Mum," Fred said winningly, but his mother didn't seem to hear it.

"I've never heard such language, and in front of Hermione no less!" she said, still staring at Ron in horror.

"I was. . ." Ron's ears flamed and he glared at the twins, who were both grinning widely. "They were harassing her!"

Mrs. Weasley rounded on her other two sons as they sputtered indignantly.

"We were just saying how lovely her hair looks."

"That's right! And haven't you always said that it's only polite to compliment a lady?"

"Speaking of, your hair looks lovely too, Mum. . ."

Hermione cleared her voice, trying not to laugh at the twins. "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley. . .No harm done."

Mrs. Weasley huffed and took her bowl of salad back from Fred, casting one more glare at Ron and then turned to Hermione. "Your hair does look lovely, dear."

"Er. . .Thanks," Hermione said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously.

Mrs. Weasley walked off, and Hermione watched as the twins shook their heads sadly at Ron.

"Such awful manners," George said, and then turned back to Hermione. "You will remember what I said, won't you?"

"I'll keep it in mind," Hermione said, trying not to roll her eyes.

Obviously feeling that they had wrought enough havoc, the twins bounced off to dinner and Hermione couldn't help her small smile as she turned back to Ron, only to find him glaring at her in hurt and betrayal.

"You'll keep it in mind?" he whispered incredulously.

"Oh, please, Ron. They were trying to wind you up. Can't you see that?"

"I noticed that you didn't mind the attention."

"I enjoyed it a far sight more than being laughed at. So what if I appreciate a little positive attention?" she snapped, putting her hands on her hips. "I don't balk when girls are fussing over you, do I?"

"Maybe you should," he said, his eyes still narrowed.

"I won't have this conversation right now," she said dismissively, and then turned to follow the twins to the dinner table set up outside.

To her relief, Ron didn't try and stop her and she was granted a temporary reprieve through dinner, although she knew that Ron's eyes were on her through the entire meal.

Hermione escaped afterwards, huddling up in Ginny's room and reading the romance novel she had found on Ginny's nightstand. Witches read the same trash as Muggles, she observed, and almost laughed out loud when the hero ended up wet, in clinging robes that showed off his rippling muscles.

"What rubbish," she sniffed, and then found herself flipping to the next page when the Wizard was left with no choice but to slip off the robes and prance around shirtless in front of the witch he fancied.

"Reading something interesting?"

Hermione jumped, and would have reached for her wand if the book hadn't been in her hand. She stared wide-eyed at Ron, feeling very guilty for some reason. When she would have put the book down, Ron jerked it out of her hand and stared at the cover. The witch and wizard in question were caught in a tight embrace, kissing fiercely.

"I guess it was interesting," he said, flipping through the pages and stopping at a point in the middle, reading a few lines as his mouth dropped open. "This is dirty!" Then he smiled, and looked up at her. "Well, well, Miss Granger, reading naughty books. . . I'm shocked."

"It's Ginny's, I just picked it up for lack of anything else to read."

Ron was still reading, and he let out a snort. "If mum knew she was reading this, she'd go spare. . ."

Hermione jerked the book out of his hand, and put it back on the nightstand. "It's better than those Sorcerers' Bone magazines you keep in the bottom of your trunk."

"I don't. . ." Ron started, but Hermione gave him a look and his ears colored slightly. "Those are Fred and George's magazines . . .I'm just storing them. . .because. . ."

"Spare me. I really don't care," she huffed. "Was there something I could do for you, Ron?"

"Yes, I want to know what's going on with you," he said, and the bed dipped considerably when he sat next to her. "I don't understand. . . Are you hacked off at me?"

Hermione sighed, softening when she saw the look of worry on his face. "No, Ron. . .I'm just. . ."

"Just?"

Hermione bit her lip, thinking of a way to explain herself. "I'm just concerned. . . For us. . ."

Ron frowned at her. "Why would you be concerned?"

"I don't want you to think last night meant more than it did," she said, losing her courage and staring at her hands. "That it. . .changed anything."

She finally looked up when the silence seemed deafening, and winced from the look of hurt and anger on Ron's face.

When he finally spoke, Ron's voice was harsh and cold. "Don't worry, it didn't change anything."

"I don't want you to think that I don't care for you. . . because I do. . ."

"Sure," he said, standing up. "You just don't love me, right?"

"I. . ." Hermione shut her mouth, frowning.

Ron's eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. "Do me a favor."

"What?"

"Don't show up at my door anymore."

Hermione's chest felt tight for some reason, and she just stared at him. "I don't understand."

"Find some other bloke's shoulder to cry on. Harry's lonely and in need of a good shag, maybe he'll help you out. . . You care for him too. Should work out just fine for you."

"I don't want Harry," she whispered, feeling tears sting her eyes.

"Well, I don't want you," he said harshly, his face turning from pale to flushed almost instantly. "I'm so over you. . .over this. . . I hope you don't think that you're the only bird I can find to warm my bed."

Hermione jumped off the bed and folded her arms over her chest, sniffing indignantly. "Why would I think that? We all know you'll shag anyone who shows a vague amount of interest in you."

"I guess we have something in common, then. I'm sure George will be thrilled. Maybe he'll put up with your know-it-all bullshit, because I'm sick of it. Sick of you!" he yelled, seeming even larger than he already was in his fury. "I wish I'd never met you!"

Hermione recoiled, his words hurting her far more than she'd ever admit to. Tears stung her eyes, but she ignored them, choosing instead to feel the anger festering inside her. The rest was too painful.

"That makes two of us!" Hermione yelled when she'd found her voice again. "I can't believe I was daft enough to give my virginity to. . to a. . .an oaf like you!"

"Well, Miss Know-it-all, I wish I could hand it back to you, because the last thing in the world I want is some stuck up-birds' virginity! I'm much happier with a warm, friendly woman. . . You know, someone who actually has curves and tits!"

Hermione's jaw dropped open, and that insecure, desperately lonely little girl that she once was, rose to the forefront. "Get out!" She went to the door, jerking it open, and wasn't even surprised to see the twins standing there, looking very guilty. She shoved at Ron, pushing him out the door. "I don't ever want to see you again. . .Any of you!" she added for good measure. "The whole lot of you are just. . .just. . ."

"Hey, what'd we do?" George said, finally finding his voice. "I think you've got great tits! They're. . .pert."

She sucked in a sharp breath, huffing in fury and hurt. All three of them backed up a step, but she decided it just wasn't worth it and slammed the door so hard the doorframe splintered.

"What'd I say?" she heard George mumble.

"Nothing, she's just a cold, heartless wench," Ron said, his footsteps echoing as he stomped up the stairs. "Ignore her."

Hermione stood there, breathing heavily, and staring at the door long after the twins' footsteps followed Ron's up the stairs. Then, to her great dismay, the pain in her chest caught up to her and she couldn't help but let out a sob as she crumbled onto the bed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	12. Deception

Hermione could have sworn that she'd made a promise to herself not to cry over a man again. More specifically, she'd made a promise not cry over Ron again. She wiped furiously at the tears and took a deep breath, finding that she was relieved instead of embarrassed that Ginny had come back to her room not too long after Ron had left. For some reason, Ginny's presence was always comforting.

"Bugger him straight to hell. I hope he rots there!"

Ginny arched an eyebrow at Hermione and pulled open her top dresser drawer. She rifled through her clothes for a second before she pulled out a small box of Chocolate Frogs and tossed one casually towards Hermione. She caught it deftly, looking at the wrapper for a second through watery eyes.

"Your brother is an oaf, and a pig, and a whole slew of other foul, disgusting creatures whose names escape me at the moment," Hermione mumbled as she tore at the wrapper . The card fell out and she automatically picked it, turning it over to see who it was. "Oh wow!" she gasped, staring at the card in shock. "I can't believe it. . . I've got Agrippa."

"No way!" Ginny jumped onto the bed next to her and took the card out of her hand. "This card is really rare, Hermione. I've never even seen one before," she whispered, flipping it over and reading the back for a few minutes before she spoke again. "If I had money, I'd try and buy it from you."

"Don't be silly. . .They were your frogs. I just opened it," Hermione said as she nibbled at the frog, feeling relieved to have a distraction. "Keep it."

Ginny was thoughtful, gazing at the card in her hand longingly. "I've been looking for this one for years."

"Ron has, too. . .It really must be rare," Hermione said, taking it back to read it herself. "It almost makes me wish I collected cards."

Ginny smiled at her as she flipped her long red hair behind her and flopped back against her bed. "Keep this one. . .It's a good one to start with." She pulled it out of Hermione's hand and stared at the picture, holding it up in front of her as she studied it. "I think it's a sign or something. Maybe it'll bring you good luck."

"I don't believe in luck, good or any other kind," Hermione said, as she took another bite out of her frog and leaned back on the bed next to Ginny. "Now, if your brother wasn't such a prat. . .I might have given it to him."

Ginny laughed. "If he knew you had this card, he'd probably stop being a prat. . . He's eaten countless frogs looking for it."

Hermione huffed, but found herself smiling in spite of everything. "I'm sure it was a real sacrifice for him."

 

~*~

 

Hermione and Ginny had talked well into night as they ate their way through the entire box of Chocolate Frogs that Ginny had stashed. By the time her eyes had started to get heavy, Hermione felt significantly better and she was sure she owed it to Ginny. There was something to be said for female companionship, even if it often resulted in giggling and the kind of silliness that she usually didn't allow herself to indulge in.

They had talked about any number of things. Hermione had found out far more about Harry and his relationship with Ginny than she had ever wanted to know, but she hadn't really minded so much. If Harry was finally coming around and getting to the point that he was ready to admit his true feelings for Ginny it was probably a good thing. Harry deserved love. . . At least one of the infamous trio should be happy.

And bugger what Ron thought about the whole thing.

She'd been exhausted after a very long week and Hermione had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep in the second bed Mr. Weasley had put in Ginny's room. She may have even forgone breakfast completely and indulged herself with a lie in, if Ginny hadn't woken her up just as the morning sun started peeking in through the windows.

"Hermione, get up!"

Hermione jerked awake instantly, throwing a curse with the wand she always kept under her pillow. She stifled a groan when she watched Ginny duck as the curse bounced harmlessly off the barrier Hermione had set around her bed.

"What?" Hermione mumbled as she lifted the barrier and slipped out of bed, thankful that she had remembered to set it.

"I need your help," Ginny said with a huge smile, seeming oblivious to the fact that she had nearly got herself cursed.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at her in suspicion. "With?"

Ginny's smile turned devious, though Hermione knew she meant it to be charming, and she was reminded strongly of the twins, especially when she heard the next words that left Ginny's mouth. "With my incredibly charming and handsome brother."

Ron was handsome, anyone with eyes could see that, but charming was a stretch and Hermione still wasn't feeling too inclined to be generous towards him. "Bill?" she asked dryly.

"Come on, Hermione, stop playing. This is important," Ginny said seriously, and Hermione caught a note of panic in her voice.

"Go on," she said, intrigued and a bit worried when Ginny shifted apprehensively, casting Hermione a nervous glance.

"I need Ron to disappear tonight."

Hermione's jaw dropped. Even if Ron wasn't a prat--which he was--there was no way in hell she could do what she thought Ginny might be suggesting. She may think that Harry needed to admit his true feelings for Ginny, but that didn't mean she would be a party to. . . Well, she didn't even want to think about what Ginny wanted her to be party to. "Ginny, no!"

"Oh, come on. Sirius will be here any day to get Harry. I don't have much time!" Ginny pleaded as Hermione looked at her, horrified.

"Ginny, that's just . . . I don't know. . . deceitful!" she gasped, still shocked.

"I don't think Ron will mind." Ginny raised one eyebrow and smirked.

Ginny was definitely reminding Hermione of the twins now, and it was a bit scary. She almost felt sorry for Harry. With or without her help, it was obvious that he was in real trouble.

"You're so bad," she said, unable to resist a half smile as she shook her head.

"I'm determined. There's a difference. So, will you do it?"

Ginny looked hopefully at Hermione and to her shock, she found herself cracking slightly. Ginny could be very persuasive when she wanted to be.

Yes, Harry was in big trouble.

For some unknown reason, a part of her wanted to help Ginny, but Hermione was hurt over Ron's words, even if she was perceptive enough now to know that he'd been lashing out. It pained her to admit that she hadn't been guilt free in their last argument, but still his words had stung. "I don't know. . ."

"Please. . . What if Harry had died? Then, I would never know. I love him, Hermione. I love him so much it hurts. Please, do this for me." Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm in desperation and she found herself even more willing to agree.

Life was short, after all. . . Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Hadn't she promised that she'd never let anything come between their friendship again? Ron may not remember that particular conversation, but she did. . .vividly.

And it was for a good cause. . .wasn't it?

"Oh, I guess. But I won't enjoy it," Hermione said, shocking herself as the words left her mouth.

Had she just agreed to seduce Ron just so Harry could get shagged? This was a new low, and Hermione couldn't believe she was willingly conspiring against both her best friends.

Forget the twins, Ginny was a force unto herself. Persuasive was an understatement. She was almost siren-like at the moment, with her eyes glowing in triumph. Something nagged at Hermione-Ginny was too persuasive, but she found herself ignoring it when Ginny gave her an enthusiastic hug and laughed. "Yeah, right!"

She returned the hug awkwardly, but Ginny didn't seem to notice. "Won't he be surprised?" Hermione said thoughtfully as she pulled away, and really began to consider what Ginny had just talked her into.

"Which one?" Ginny asked, her eyes still alight in mischief and anticipation.

Hermione studied her, and another wave of real pity washed over her. Poor Harry had no chance. "Both, I suspect."

 

~*~

 

"I don't think I can do this," Hermione said, pulling absently on one of her fingernails as a distraction against her raging nerves. "I'm not really the seductive type, Ginny. . . Maybe you can get the twins to take him out or something. . . He won't say no to whiskey, you know that. . ."

"And admit to what I'm up to? No way," Ginny said, as she flipped through her closet in annoyance. "Bugger it all. . . I can't find anything to wear. Gah, my nerves are rattled, too. . . Forget Ron, whiskey sounds good to me. A shot or two would help about now. I bet the twins have some stashed in their room. . .Do you want some? I could nick it while they're still downstairs."

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, shocked.

"It'd take the edge of your nerves," Ginny supplied helpfully. "Though, I don't know why you're nervous. . . It's not like you and Ron haven't done the deed a million times already."

"It's not the deed I'm worried about," Hermione said, blushing in spite of herself. "It's the lying and. . .Well, he told me not to show up at his room anymore. How pathetic is it going to look when I fling myself at him, especially after what he said? I think you need to find some other way of distracting Ron, I do have some pride."

Ginny had been looking through her closet again, but she stopped shoving clothes aside, and turned back to glare at Hermione. "You can't back out now. . .We've spent all day planning. And honestly, Hermione, you have too much pride. That's your problem. Ron adores you. He was practically speechless at dinner when you cleaned the pumpkin juice off his trousers. Trust me, I know my brother. He doesn't want to be fighting with you. . . Do us all a favor and make up with him. He's such a arse when you two fight." Ginny shoved another dress aside and grumbled loudly. "Bullocks, I hate being poor. . .Maybe I'll just show up naked and be done with it."

Hermione gave a dry chuckle as she pulled at another hangnail. "That'd work."

Ginny paused, looking devious again. "You know, that's not really a bad idea."

Hermione laughed again, feeling her own nerves ease slightly. "Ginny, you can't walk outside starkers."

Ginny smiled, obviously considering the idea. "It's warm out."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious."

"Sure," Ginny said, looking back into her closet thoughtfully. "I'm not crazy. I'd wear a dress to get out there. . .But, since we'll be outside anyway, what difference would it make if I just slipped it off early. Then I wouldn't have to worry about trying to find sexy clothes that I don't own and depressing myself."

"Poor Harry," Hermione said, feeling genuinely guilty. "I don't think I can do this to him."

"You won't be, I will," Ginny said, her smile back again as she glanced at Hermione. "Anyway, what're you wearing tonight?"

"What I have on," Hermione said, glancing down at her khaki trousers and green blouse that was plain, but still neat and nicely tucked in. "I'm not showing up at The Leaky Cauldron naked, that's for sure. I like you, but I have my limits."

"The room is already reserved. You can Apparate right there. . . No one would see you anyway."

"No, Ginny," Hermione said, giving an incredulous laugh. "What is it with you Weasleys and showing your skin. . . Ron strips down any time he gets the chance. It's like he has an aversion to clothing."

"That," Ginny said, pointing at Hermione and pulling a face. "Was way more than I ever needed to know."

"Knowing that you're going to shock poor Harry to death by showing up naked was way more than I ever needed to know, so we're even," Hermione said, falling heavily back against her bed in Ginny's room and staring up at the ceiling. "I'm really not up for this, Ginny. . . What I want to do is strangle Ron, not seduce him. Maybe I'll just stun him and read all night."

"Full body bind would work too," Ginny said, as she pulled a dress out of her closet and looked at it more closely. "Whatever gets the job done. . . Do you like this one?" she asked, holding the dress in front of her for Hermione's approval.

Hermione lifted her head, and then shrugged as she sat up again. "If you're going to take it off, does it matter?"

"No, I suppose not," Ginny said, and then pulled off the dress she was currently wearing, seeming to give little thought to the fact that Hermione was still in the room.

Hermione had always thought it was a bit odd that Ron could be so comfortable naked, but Ginny was the same. She would change in front of Hermione without a second thought, and it had never stopped leaving her a bit unnerved. Perhaps it was growing up an only child, with very reserved parents, but sometimes all of the Weasleys baffled her. She'd caught the twins coming out of the bathroom in their boxers more than once during her summer stays at the Burrow, and they never once acted embarrassed, just simply mumbled, "Good morning," and walked back to their room like it was nothing, leaving Hermione standing there blushing to the roots of her hair.

Hermione shook her head as Ginny stretched to unclasp her bra, and decided that she might as well get everything over with. She stood, automatically running her hands over her blouse and trousers to smooth out the wrinkles. "I'm going. . . Be safe. Don't venture off too far. Stay within the wards around the Burrow until Harry gets there."

"Of course," Ginny said, stopping the struggle with her bra and brushing her hair out of her face as she smiled at Hermione. "And have fun tonight. . . Believe it or not, I'm doing you a favor. You don't want to be fighting with Ron either. . .I know you don't."

"Who said I'm making up with him," Hermione said, arching an eyebrow at Ginny. "I was still planning on stunning him and reading."

Ginny laughed. "You know, Hermione. . .The scary thing is -- I think you might be serious."

Hermione grabbed Ginny's romance novel off her nightstand, and tucked it under her arm as she reached for the doorknob. "Who says I'm not?"

Ginny's laughter followed her down the staircase. Hermione felt her stomach churn nervously, but ignored it as she peered into the living room. She watched as the twins bounced around, tormenting everyone else with one of their latest inventions, one that she didn't plan on hanging around long enough to see.

"Too much sugar," she mumbled to herself, shaking her head at Fred and George's antics and spared a glance at Ron.

He was sitting in the corner, sulking as he polished his favorite knife, the one she'd given him for his last birthday. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, she thought, oddly touched as she watched him use the edge of his shirt to rub at the blade.

 

Thankful for once of Fred and George's boisterous natures and their ability to command all the attention in a room, Hermione quietly slipped back up the stairs, confident now that no one was in Ron's room.

She made a point to ignore the empty bottle of whiskey still sitting on the small table in Ron's room, as she went to Pig's cage and cooed at the little owl, watching as he fluttered madly about from the attention. She laughed, thinking there was no pet and owner more ill suited than Ron and Pig. But, he adored his owl, and Hermione found even that endearing tonight.

She quickly wrote out a short note to Ron, and then opened Pig's cage, spending a few minutes coaxing him down from the ceiling as he flew in circles, happy to be liberated and over anxious to deliver the letter she had.

"Take this to Ron after I've left," she said, once he finally came down and let her tie the letter on his leg. "You don't have to rush. . .but don't take all night either."

Hermione left the window open just enough for Pig to fit through and then pulled out her wand to Disapparate, but stopped short. She walked over, grabbed the whiskey bottle and two shot glasses off the table and put them back in Ron's trunk. It wouldn't do to have Mrs. Weasley find them there.

Then, with a small pop, she Disapparated to The Leaky Cauldron.

 

~*~

 

Ron wasn't one to accept defeat easily, but he was dangerously close to giving into it now. There had been an odd pain in his chest since he'd left Hermione fuming at him the night before, but even the feeling of his heart cracking in two wasn't enough to stop him from just giving up.

But, they couldn't go on like they were. It was too painful for both of them. They'd got themselves caught up in some sort of out of control magic carpet ride, with brilliant highs, and plummeting lows that left them both hurting and it was too much. They had enough to deal with -- enough pain, enough problems.

His emotional attachment was just too strong. He wanted her too badly, loved her too deeply. When she cut him, it went to the bone and Ron lashed out when he was hurting. He just couldn't help himself.

Ron put his knife back into the holder on his calf, and sighed, leaning back against the couch to rub his forehead. He'd woken up this morning intent on staying away from Hermione. They could just be friends and he could get shagged somewhere else. There was only so long he could put up with the pain of her constant rejections before he punched back like he had last night, and he didn't want to hurt Hermione. He didn't want to say things that he instantly regretted just because his heart contracted painfully in his chest every time she tried to push him away.

And he'd been resolute - determined to stay away, even though the thought of not touching her ever again was almost too painful to bear. But, he'd made up his mind, and had even considered going out with George that night. Just to get out of the house and find a distraction to stop him from going to Hermione and begging her forgiveness.

But, he was faltering now.

By all rights, she should be furious at him and he'd assumed she was since he hadn't seen her all day, but at dinner Hermione had acted as though there was nothing wrong. She'd even cleaned the pumpkin juice Harry had spilled on Ron's trousers. Her fingers had lingered over Ron's thigh, smoothing out the material and making sure it was dry after she'd done a cleaning spell and her touch had left Ron speechless. Her touch always did. No matter how casual, they always caused a wealth of emotion to wash over Ron and he'd long since stopped trying to understand why.

It wasn't his reaction to her that was bothering him. He wasn't daft. He didn't expect that to change. He may try to stay away for both their sakes, but that didn't mean he'd stop reacting to her. It was impossible. The connection was too strong.

No, what was bothering him was the nagging feeling that he was being lied to.

Deceit had been mixed in with the other emotions he always associated with Hermione, and it had been bothering him all night. Hermione didn't lie, not to him. She may omit a few things from time to time, but she never outright lied. He trusted her implicitly.

The thought of her deceiving him was enough to give him a headache -- a big one. It had started the second she touched him, and it was getting worse the more he thought about it.

He was still rubbing his forehead when something brushed quickly past him, coming dangerously close to his face. Ron bolted up, thinking the twins had grown bored and had started throwing inanimate objects at him for amusement, but they were busy reciting a dirty limerick, earning laughter from Charlie and Harry, and pursed lips from Percy.

A hooting sound had him looking up, and he frowned as Pig flapped his wings enthusiastically, flying in wobbly circles above Ron's head. "Come here, you feathery git," he hissed quietly, not wanting to attract attention. Probably thinking that feathery git was his name, Pig slowed, dropping down enough so that Ron could jump up and grab him, taking care not to hurt him as everything but his tiny head was engulfed in Ron's grasp.

A small note dangled off his leg and Ron untied it, frowning when he recognized Hermione's handwriting. "Go back upstairs," he whispered to Pig, not wanting the twins to get a hold of him and make him purple or spotted out of boredom.

Pig took off, zooming up the stairs in a whirl of gray feathers as Ron stared at the note in his hand.

Ron,

We need to talk. Meet me at The Leaky Cauldron. I'm in room 12. Apparate to the room so you don't cause a fuss downstairs.

See you soon,

Hermione

 

Ron flipped the parchment, stared at the blank back, and then turned it over again to re-read Hermione's words.

Had she lost her mind?

What the hell was she doing at The Leaky Cauldron? Before their fight last night, Ron would have given his right arm for a chance to spend the night alone with Hermione at The Leaky Cauldron. His body tightened at the thought of just the two of them away from everyone, free from worries about getting caught. But he was weary, tracing his finger over Hermione's neat, precise handwriting, and trying to understand why on earth she'd go all the way to London when they could talk right here at the Burrow. They could even shag at the Burrow, if that's what she wanted. . . Did she want that?

"Everything okay," Charlie asked, coming up and arching an eyebrow at the parchment in Ron's hand. "I saw Pig. . .You aren't writing letters to yourself now, are you?"

Ron shook his head, still feeling a bit stunned. "No, it was from Hermione."

"Ah, okay. . . Everything going okay upstairs, then?" Charlie asked, mirth laced thickly in his voice.

"She's not upstairs," Ron said, staring down at the letter once more to confirm he hadn't imagined the words she'd written there. "I've got to go. . . I'll be back before Mum and Dad get up."

"Okay," Charlie said slowly, the amusement gone as a frown marred his forehead. "Do you want to tell me where you're going?"

Ron handed him the letter, and Charlie scanned it for a second before his eyebrows shot up. "She wants to talk?"

"That's what it says, doesn't it?" Ron snapped, starting to feel anxious. She could take care of herself, but he still didn't like the idea of Hermione by herself at The Leaky Cauldron.

A smile curved at the corner of Charlie's lips as he looked up. "Has a silencing charm been cast around the Burrow that I don't know about?"

"Bugger off, I'm going," Ron said, snatching the letter back from Charlie. "I can't leave her there alone. . .In London."

"Right, of course not," Charlie said, finally laughing. "Why don't the birds ever pay for the hotel rooms when I meet up to talk with them?"

"Is it expensive?" Ron asked, not having thought about that. "Getting a room?"

"It's not cheap. You might want to pay her back for it." Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out two galleons. He held them out for Ron to take, and huffed when he hesitated. "Just take it."

"I don't want to take your money," Ron said, feeling awkward. "I won't be able to pay you back for a bit."

"You don't have to pay me back. . . At least one of us is getting shagged," Charlie said as he grabbed Ron's hand and thrust the Galleons into his open palm. "And if you get caught, don't you dare tell mum I paid for it."

"I won't get caught," he said, closing his hand around the money and staring down at Charlie. "Thanks, mate."

"Go now, I'll cover for you," Charlie said and laughed again. "Have a nice talk."

Ron nodded and then turned to leave, deciding to Disappparate from the kitchen so he wouldn't cause a stir. They wouldn't grass on him, but the twins would never let him hear the end of it if they knew.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	13. Seduction

Apparating wasn't easy, and aside from a few practice tries, Ron really hadn't had all that much training in the actual technique. He understood the basics, and had a good sense of coordinates and direction, but the execution of it all needed work.

He landed with a resounding thud, his legs buckling so hard that he was a crumpled heap on the floor. He shot up instantly, hoping that he'd managed to at least get the right room, and he was relived to see Hermione curled in a large chair, her bare feet tucked under her as she sat there reading a book.

"I guess it's a good thing we're going to work on Apparating next week," Hermione said, arching an eyebrow as she marked the page she was reading and then set the book on the small table next her. "It's lucky you didn't splinch yourself."

"I wouldn't have had to worry about splinching myself if I didn't have to Apparate here in the first place," Ron said, his ears turning burning in embarrassment as he glared at Hermione. "What's going on? Why are you here?"

Hermione shrugged. "I seem to remember you, not so casually informing me that I wasn't welcome in your room anymore."

"So you get a room at The Leaky Cauldron? That was the only solution you could come up with?"

"It's neutral territory," Hermione said, appearing casual, but Ron could sense the tension and hurt rolling off of her. "You can't accuse me of showing up at your door. . .You came to me."

"What choice did I have? I couldn't leave you here alone?" Ron took a deep breath to calm his nerves and still the shock. "Why?" he asked, finding that the rest was escaping him.

Hermione sighed, looking very tired all of a sudden. "I don't know. . . This was a mistake."

"What's a mistake?" Ron asked, still very confused and more than a little concerned to see Hermione so nervous and shaken. "What aren't you telling me?"

Her shoulders seemed to sag in defeat. "Ginny asked me to distract you."

"Distract me? Distract me from wh--" Ron's jaw dropped, and he could feel the heat rising in his face, turning it red. "That little. . . And you. . ." He stared at Hermione, feeling for the first time in many years, that he just didn't know her. "How could you agree to that?"

"I-I don't know. . . I just. . . Well, I hoped. . ." Hermione ran her fingers through her short hair, working out a small tangle in her curls, before allowing her hands to drop limply at her sides. Her head fell back against the chair as she sighed. "It doesn't matter, I guess."

The hurt hit Ron in the center of the chest, waves of it that made him want to double over, but he straightened his shoulders instead. He shoved his hands into his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to her, and took an unconscious step back. He could see her face fall when she misread his intentions.

"I'm going back."

"Go," Hermione said, the emotions that had been so clearly written on her face expertly closing off to him as she reached for her book. "Tell Ginny I'm sorry. . . I warned her that I wasn't the seductive type."

Ron had been turning away, hoping that he could Apparate back to the Burrow without hurting himself, when Hermione's words sunk in. He turned back to her, staring at her shoulders that were stiff and unyielding as she flipped the page on her book automatically. There had been something different about her just seconds earlier; she had been exposed, vulnerable. It almost seemed like she. . .needed him.

"I. . ." Ron licked his lips as Hermione paused in her reading to look at him. Her gaze was hard and cold, but he didn't let it stop him; he'd bled enough over Hermione. He supposed that by now, one more time didn't matter. "I think you're seductive. . . I mean, not in that fake way that most birds try to be sexy. It's more like. . ." Ron shrugged trying to put his thoughts into words. "With you it's real. . .When you're seductive you don't even know you're doing it. See, like now." He pointed at her as he took a step closer. "When you bite on your bottom lip like that. . .That drives me mad, because it makes me think about your lips, and how good you kiss when you're all hot and desperate and pressed up against me," Ron said, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair.

Hermione stopped chewing on her lip and was stared at him. Her cheeks had flushed and her breathing had turned shallow. He loved when her cheeks flushed like that. That's the way she looked when they. . .

"You're very seductive, Hermione," he said, sucking in another deep breath when he realized that his own breathing had gone shallow. "Too seductive."

"I thought you liked women with big breasts and curves," Hermione said, and the hurt was back in her voice, the armor that she always wore fading away as her eyes turned glassy. "Warm women."

"Christ, I wish I did," Ron rasped, feeling exposed. "It'd make my life a lot bloody easier. You're not easy to love, Hermione. . . but I can't seem to stop myself."

Hermione swallowed hard. "I didn't agree to help Ginny just so she could be with Harry--"

"He better not be with her," Ron said, the heat rising in his face. "He knows I'll--"

Hermione gave him a look, and he stopped his tirade. "As I was saying. . . I didn't do it just to help Ginny. . .I had hoped that maybe. . ."

Ron felt a small surge of hope rush through him. "Maybe what?"

Hermione seemed to be looking for the right words, as she stared up at him. "I just don't like fighting with you. . . We promised not to let this come between our friendship and it has."

Ron shook his head, and rubbed at his forehead, finding that his headache was back. "That was a naive promise. I don't even know what you want from me anymore. . .But I don't think I can offer it."

"I don't understand," Hermione whispered, as she set her book back on the table. "Why is it okay for everyone else but me. . . If I was just some random girl, you'd--"

"You're not just some random girl!"

Ron felt the anger surge inside of him despite his best attempts to stop it. It was insane, but he was insulted that all she seemed to want from him now was the sex. Not love, just lust and release. More so, she wanted it free of attachments. She took everything and offered him nothing and he was so very sick of it.

Before he even realized he was doing it, Ron had jumped forward and grabbed Hermione's arm. He jerked her out of the chair so hard that she stumbled and fell against him.

Hermione shoved at his chest as she righted herself. "What the hell are you--"

Ron didn't let her finish. His fingers had threaded into her hair, tightening in her wild curls as he tilted her head up and then leaned down to crush his lips against hers. His tongue thrust into her mouth, silencing the sharp words he could sense were threatening to spill out of her. His kiss was hard, unyielding, but still she responded. Her body molded into his. He could feel her small breasts pressed against his chest, making his skin hot despite the clothes between them. It should have diffused his anger, but it only fueled it.

"Is this what you want from me, Hermione?" he growled, as he wrenched his lips from hers and forced her back against the large dresser that decorated the room. "You want to be just some random girl. . .Fine!"

Ron's chest was heaving in anger. His body was tight in need for her despite the hurt she always seemed to cause him and at that moment, he literally hated her for it.

Hermione was also breathless, looking shocked and disorientated as she tried to push away from the dresser, but Ron had her trapped, using his weight to his advantage as he pressed against her, making her wince when her back came in sharp contact with the wood. "No, that's not what I--"

Ron kissed her again, cutting off her words for a second time. The fury and lust collided inside him, making him mindless to his actions. The soft scent of lavender assailed his senses and he was angry with Hermione for smelling so good, for feeling so perfect against him.

He didn't realize that his hands were pulling at her shirt, forcing it out of the waistband of her trousers as his tongue continued to ravish her mouth. Hermione wasn't fighting him; her body was soft and pliant under his rough hands as he pulled at the button on her trousers and then slid his hands inside them. He gripped at her hips momentarily and then shoved both her knickers and her trousers down past her thighs.

He finally released her mouth, but he couldn't look at her, refused to as he pushed his own trousers and pants down far enough to free himself.

Just another girl.

Ron repeated the mantra inside his head as he forced Hermione to turn around so that her back was pressed against his chest. He grasped her bare hips again, pulling her to him until she had to bend over and grip at the dresser to remain balanced. Using his knee to force her legs apart, he deliberately stopped himself from touching her first to see if she was ready for him.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he roughly pushed inside her, and then her heat surrounded him; tight, warm, and every inch Hermione, but it was wrong, she was too tight, her body was tense. She was dry, making it almost impossible for her to accommodate his size as his fingers dug into her hips and he pushed deeper despite the resistance. He heard her suck in a sharp breath that had nothing to do with pleasure and his eyes snapped open automatically. He could see her face in the mirror above the dresser, hurt and shock playing over her features. Her eyes were closed tight, and she'd bitten down on her lip to stop herself from crying out.

Reality descended on him instantly, and his grip on her hips loosened. His actions flashed back at him, and every instinct he had made him want to recoil in horror. He tried to pull away from her, but she gave a muffled moan, and he watched in the mirror as her eyes squeezed tighter and her teeth dug deeper into her bottom lip.

He reached up and ran his thumb over her bottom lip until she had no choice but to free it. Her eyes opened, wide and glassy, staring back at him in the mirror, and he found that he couldn't even look at her as the shame rolled through him, making him sick.

"Oh fuck, Hermione, love. . . I'm--" he choked, finding that tears were threatening as he leaned down and buried his face in her hair. "I'm sorry."

"I-it's okay," Hermione whispered, her voice quivering. "I was just surprised. I'm okay."

"No." He shook his head and took a deep breath, inhaling the soft scent of lavender in her hair to stop himself from breaking down. "Don't try to make it better. . .I-I'm so sorry. . . I didn't mean to. . ."

"Ron, I'm fine. . . It just hurts a little, but I'm fine." Hermione tried to pull away from him, but he was still buried in her, and she was still way too dry. He was too big not to cause her pain and she ended up wincing instead.

Instinct took over and Ron pushed the feelings of self-horror aside. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip once more. "Lick it," he whispered, still not looking at Hermione as her tongue darted out on command and ran over the pad of his thumb.

Pangs of lust shot through him when she sucked it into her mouth, but he ignored the feelings completely as he pulled his thumb free and brought his hand down between her legs. Hermione stiffened and the self-loathing he was feeling magnified a thousand-fold. "Shhh," he breathed into her hair. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want you to relax a little."

He rubbed his thumb over her clit, moving it in small, soothing circles. Hermione gasped as her body arched into him, forcing him deeper inside her and Ron found himself having to clench his jaw against his reaction to her. As a distraction, he leaned down and ran his lips over the nape of her neck.

He let his tongue trail from the curve of her shoulder up to her ear, and then back down to her pulse point. It had always been a soft spot for her and Ron wasn't surprised when Hermione reached behind her and tangled her fingers in his hair, holding his mouth against her neck as her head lolled to the side to give him better access.

His thumb was still rubbing against her slowly, and he could feel her growing wet around him. When he moved to pull out of her, Hermione moaned in complaint. "Don't stop," she rasped as she turned her head. Her fingers were still gripping at his hair, and he couldn't really stop her from kissing him.

Hermione licked once at his lips, and Ron found himself parting them for her, letting her tongue dart into his mouth. His fingers caressed her cheek, running lovingly down her jaw and over her throat as he lost himself in the soothing comfort of her kiss.

"Please, don't stop, Ron," she breathed against his lips. "I want you inside me."

Ron wanted to run away and hide, to bury himself in shame and humiliation, but Hermione was arching back against him. Her breathless begging made him blind to everything but what she was asking for and he was powerless against the rising tide of passion building up between them. She moaned as Ron pulled out of her and pushed back in slowly, being careful not to hurt her anymore than he already had. He hated himself for the pleasure that washed over him, but her tight, hot body was surrounding him, causing waves of ecstasy to shoot through his veins with searing heat and he couldn't stop himself.

He reached under her blouse and cupped one small breast, letting his thumb trace over her nipple through the fabric of her bra. Sweat trickled down his back as he continued to stroke in and out of her, tortuously slow and gentle. He had to force himself to ignore the baser instincts that made him want to slam into her hard and take everything she had to offer when he didn't deserve any of it. He pulled his shirt off when it started to stick to him uncomfortably and Hermione did the same, leaning back against him and letting Ron slide his hands over her rib cage and up her body as he helped her slip her blouse over her head. He fumbled with the hook on her bra because of the shake in his hands, but Hermione didn't seem to notice as he finally managed to unhook her bra. She slipped it down her arms and tossed it aside with the rest of their clothes.

Hermione moaned softly as she leaned back, now fully naked, and rested her head against his shoulder. She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, and Ron couldn't help but look then. He stared at her in the mirror, entranced by her slim, muscular body. Her firm breasts were beautifully on display for him as the two of them moved against each other, using the friction of their connected bodies to bring them closer to release.

It was beyond him how Hermione could think that she was anything but seductive. He'd never seen anything more breathtaking than her in front of him, looking almost delicate in comparison to his large frame. Another wave of agony washed over him when he realized just how much bigger he was than her; how easily he'd used it to his advantage and taken her before she'd been ready. She hadn't tried to stop him, and he knew she could have if she wanted to, but it didn't make it any less painful for him.

"Touch me again," Hermione said breathlessly as she finally opened her eyes and met his in the mirror. "I love when you touch me."

Ron's hands had been holding her hips, but she reached down and gripped one, bringing it to her lips and licking at his thumb the way she had before, making Ron groan as the image of her so wanton sent shards of lust spiraling through him. He squeezed his eyes shut as she sucked it into her mouth, and swirled her tongue over the tip, reminding him of what it felt like to have her mouth around his cock.

His head fell back from the weight of his need for her and he couldn't help but bring his hand down between her legs and touch her like she wanted. Hermione fell forward, gripping at the dresser again, making the friction between the two of them almost painful in its intensity while Ron rubbed at the small nub between her folds. He thrust into her harder as his body reacted instinctually to the gasps and moans Hermione was making. He let his fingers feel his cock, now so wet from her, sliding in and out of her body that was stretched tightly around him.

God, it felt like she was made for him. He never truly felt whole unless he was with her like this, connected, drowning in her warmth. He closed his eyes, hearing her pleasure and it seemed to flow through him, blending with his until he wasn't certain where his feelings stopped and hers began.

Ron released his hold on her hip and leaned over, resting his large palm next to her smaller one on the dresser. His knees were protesting the awkward angle he had to bend them at to accommodate Hermione's shorter height, but he didn't care. He was still touching her, feeling his body slide in and out of hers as Hermione's low moans mingled with the soft sound of skin moving against skin.

"Oh fuck, Hermione," he breathed as his lips brushed tender kisses against the nape of her neck. "Do you know how good you feel?"

"No," Hermione said as she lifted her head, waiting until Ron looked up and met her eyes in the mirror. "Why don't you tell me?"

"I feel like I'm dying every time I'm in you like this." He thrust his hips forward, burying himself as deep as he could go. It took everything in him not to look away from her and squeeze his eyes shut as a rush of desire surged through him, making his words low and raspy. "Nothing in heaven could be better than making love to you."

He pulled out of her and pushed into her hard to emphasize his words and Hermione cried out. "Oh God, Ron," she panted, groping blindly at the wood until she was gripping at the edge of the dresser, using it as leverage to push back against him. "Go faster."

"I-I don't want to hurt you."

Hermione shook her head as her body pushed back against his again, silently begging for release. "You won't. . .Please, I'm right there. I just need--"

Ron bent his knees further, and then thrust up into her, cutting off her words. Hermione screamed when his cock brushed against a particularly sensitive place inside her that his curious fingers had discovered long ago. The last shreds of his control sprang free and he started fucking her harder, faster. Hermione gasped and cried out, as with every stroke, Ron hit that same secret spot. They rarely made love like this. Ron loved to watch Hermione's face, to be on equal ground with her. But he'd never considered how much easier it'd be to have his cock press against that sensitive place over and over from this position. Usually he waited until he was finally sated to touch her, and bring her to that particular peak with his fingers. For some reason, it was always more intense for Hermione than it was for him and he loved seeing her lose control so completely.

His hand wrapped around hers where it gripped at the dresser while his other came up to hold her hip and he couldn't hold back his own low groans as the need for release started to well up inside him. Through heavy eyelids, Ron watched Hermione's face in the mirror. He could see the bliss written on her features and he was awestruck at how beautiful Hermione was with her eyes squeezed shut and her head thrown back in abandon. His thrusts slowed as he got caught up in watching her, growling low in his throat when her tongue darted out to moisten her parted lips.

"Don't stop, Ron. . .Please," she rasped. "You don't know how good this feels."

"Like Heaven?" he couldn't resist asking, his thrusts becoming slower and shallower as he studied her face in the mirror.

"Yes, oh God, just like it," she said, her hips pushing back impatiently against his. "Please, Ron, do it harder like before. You won't hurt me, I promise."

Ron could tell she was getting frustrated, and he started moving faster. His fingers wrapped tightly around hers and he used their grip on the dresser to give him the extra leverage he needed, making sure that every thrust had him brushing past that same sensitive area inside her. He finally squeezed his eyes shut like Hermione had, robbing himself of the erotic image of the two of them in the mirror. It only took a few more hard thrusts for Hermione to reach her peak. He groaned loudly when her tight sheath rippled and clenched around his cock as her whole body shuddered from the force of her orgasm.

Hermione screamed and it took everything he had not to follow her and give himself up to the pleasure. Waves of warmth flowed over him as her body continued milking his, and Ron clenched his jaw against the feelings washing through him. His movements slowed when Hermione's head fell forward and she took several deep, gasping breaths.

It was a few minutes before Ron was certain Hermione had caught her breath and he started moving in her faster again. Hermione moaned and shuddered as his cock kept hitting that sensitive spot inside her.

"Ron, what're you. . . Oh, bugger, what're you doing," she said breathlessly, as she turned her head to the side and rested her cheek against the shiny flat surface of the dresser. "Why didn't you come?"

"I wasn't ready," he said as he let go of her hip to brush some of the moist curls off her forehead and then leaned down to place a kiss against her temple. "I want to hear you again."

"Again?" Hermione said, her voice incredulous. "I-I can't. . .The last one nearly killed me."

"I'll help you," he said, as he reached down to gently caress the swollen nub between her legs.

Hermione's whole body jerked, and she squeaked in surprise when he touched her. "Ron, no. . .I'm still really sensitive."

"It'll pass, just relax and feel me in you," he said, his hips still thrusting forward, his thumb still circling over her clit, being careful not to apply too much pressure until her sensitivity from the first orgasm passed. "Do you want to change positions?"

"Mmm. . .No, I like it this way," Hermione hummed, obviously starting to give into the desire again. "It feels really good. You keep hitting my g-spot."

"Your what?" Ron asked, only half paying attention as he just enjoyed the feel of her warm body wrapped around his.

"My g-spot. . .You touch it all the time. . . That's what you're touching when you curve your fingers upwards inside me and--"

"Oh, right. . .You gave it a name? "

"No, that's the real name. It's short for Grafenburg sp--" Hermione moaned as Ron hit the spot in question once again. "God, how are you doing that?"

"I just have to bend my knees and then. . ." He thrust his hips up and smiled when Hermione moaned again. "Neat, huh?"

Hermione gave a choked laugh. "Yes, it's very impressive. . . but aren't your knees hurting?"

"A little," Ron admitted, as he leaned down and placed another kiss against her temple. "But, it's worth it."

He began moving in her more rapidly again, his body tense with the effort it was taking to hold back his release, and he could feel his control slipping. Hermione didn't complain when his thumb started moving faster between her legs, applying more pressure.

Ron could feel the sweat rolling down his back, and the ache in his knees was almost unbearable. "Come for me, love," he breathed against his ear, trying not to sound too desperate.

Hermione gave a quick nod. "Yes, okay. . .Just don't. . . " she said, her voice heavy and breathless. "Don't stop. . . Not yet. . . Oh, mmm. . . Ron, it feels really good."

Oh Christ, he hoped it did, because Ron felt like his knees were going to give out on him. His stomach clenched as the spiraling pleasure built, spreading to his limbs and shimmering outwards in to his fingers and toes. His head fell back from the weight of his need for release and his hips started jerking erratically against Hermione's.  
Just when he thought he couldn't hold out a second longer, Hermione's head tossed back against his shoulders and she cried out as her whole body shuddered. For the second time, Ron could feel her heat spasm around him and the tight leash he'd held on his desire sprung free. Stars burst behind his closed eyelids as the pleasure uncoiled-fierce and reckless

"Oh fuck, Hermione," he groaned, as his release pulsed through him. "Shit, fuck, bugger. . .I love you."

He said the words through clenched teeth, hearing Hermione moan his name, as his hips pushed against hers in rhythm to his climax that was still radiating through his entire being. What seemed like an eternity was probably only a few seconds and eventually, Hermione collapsed weakly onto the dresser. Ron couldn't help but lean on her because his legs simply wouldn't hold him.

"Umph--Ron, I already can't breathe," she rasped, sounding totally out of breath as she jammed an elbow back into his chest.

"Ouch," Ron growled, more from the protest his knees gave when he pulled away from Hermione than her jab. "Bugger!"

"I didn't hit you that hard," Hermione said, sounding a bit indignant as she turned around, her bare skin still rosy from their lovemaking. Ron stared at her, taking in the sight of her, bold and appealingly naked, but his knees were refusing to be ignored and he ended up wincing. A look of concern spread across Hermione's face. "Ron, are you okay?"

"Yeah. . .My knees ache a bit." Ron thought the term a bit was the understatement of the century. He could barely straighten them, but he managed to make it to the loo without complaining outwardly. "I think I'll just soak them for a few minutes-Do you need to use the loo?"

Hermione shook her head, still looking at him strangely. "I'm okay. . . Are you going to be long?"

"No, just give me a minute," Ron said, as he opened the door and closed it just as quickly.

He sunk heavily to the tiled floor once he was hidden. He let his head fall hard against his hurting knees, welcoming the sting that radiated out from his forehead from the hard thump. He'd ignored it before, but suddenly everything that had happened earlier came rushing back at him.

He hurt Hermione. . . Physically.

That was the only thought that he could register. It didn't matter that his anger and hurt had ended up in a mutually satisfying conclusion. It didn't even matter that Hermione hadn't fought him, hadn't said a single word to discourage him from taking her. He wasn't na•ve and he knew better than to hurt her like he had. He wanted to drown himself when he remembered the look of pain written on Hermione's face when he'd first opened his eyes and seen her in the mirror.

 

~*~

 

Hermione chewed on her thumbnail nervously as she sat perched on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, while she stared at the bathroom door. She broke her staring contest with the door to look towards the clock on the nightstand that told her Ron had been in the loo for over forty-five minutes.

Something was wrong with him. She knew he was still in the bath, since she'd heard the run of water, but had yet to hear the drain empty. Ron was temperamental, unpredictable, and explosive at times, but that she could deal with. It was when he got silent that she worried.

There wasn't even a splash of water, nothing but eerie silence and it unnerved her. She'd already tried the handle on the door, and knew that Ron had locked her out. If he'd been a different man, she would have thought that he simply needed privacy, but Ron wasn't shy about things like that. He'd never locked a door on her before.

Forty-five minutes was too long, and she reached over to the nightstand to where her wand lay. Apparation came easily to her, and she landed on her feet in the bathroom. Ron didn't even jerk in surprise, and she stared at him, knowing he'd heard her arrival.

His body was simply too large for the small bath. His knees rose high out of the water, his massive arms rested on the sides, and his head was tossed back against the rim. His eyes were closed, and if she didn't know better, she would have assumed that he was asleep.

"Ron?"

"I said I'd be out in a minute," he mumbled.

"It's been forty-five minutes."

His eyes were still closed, the water unmoving as his form remained stoically still. "Sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," she said as she approached the tub and stood there waiting until Ron's eyes finally blinked open. They were dilated and bloodshot, and her concern increased. "Can I get in?"

"No room. . .The bloody tub's too small."

Hermione watched his eyes flick over her naked body as his head rolled to the side and she was relieved to see at least some sign of life in him. She set her wand down on the floor and crawled into the tub, heedless of the water that splashed over the edge. "We'll make room."

Ron didn't complain as she maneuvered herself. She sat facing him; her legs straddled over his, their lower bodies in intimate contact as she leaned over and brushed the wet hair off his forehead.

"I'll never understand you," he said, sounding genuinely confused. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"Why wouldn't I be nice?" she whispered, still stroking his wet hair. "I'm always nice."

Ron gave a half-hearted chuckle as he arched a skeptical eyebrow at her and Hermione smirked back at him. "Just what are you implying, Mr. Weasley?"

"Nothing," he said, his voice losing the brief amusement as his head fell back against the tub. "You're perfectly nice."

"Okay, are you going to tell me what's bothering you. . .or do I have to guess?"

Ron's eyes squeezed shut again, but Hermione waited patiently until he spoke. "I hurt you. . .I-I think I raped you. I--"He stopped talking when Hermione burst out laughing, and his eyes snapped open. "What?"

"Raped me?" Hermione said, trying to hold back her laughter when she saw that Ron was actually serious. "Funny, I thought me begging shamelessly for more made it pretty obvious that it was consensual."

"I'm talking about before. . . I know I hurt you."

Hermione sighed, and let her fingers trail down to his cheek. Her thumb brushed over his lips, as she shook her head. "Ron, I'll admit that you lacked your usual finesse at first. . .But I think you more than made up for it."

"That's no excuse," Ron said as he roughly brushed her hand aside. "Stop being nice to me. . .It just makes me feel worse."

"You don't think you're being just a little too hard on yourself?" Hermione said, feeling her face heat up slightly. "Sometimes it takes me a bit to warm up. It's happened like that before, but if I can relax it gets better and it did. . .Much better."

"It's never been like that. . . I know the difference, Hermione!" Ron said as he lifted his head to glare at her.

"I wasn't talking about you," she said, arching an eyebrow to make her meaning clear. When she saw his eyes widen in realization, she continued, "Sex can be uncomfortable sometimes, especially for women. . .Surely you know that." Ron was still staring at her in muted horror, his mouth falling open wordlessly. "Okay, maybe you don't."

"You let that fuckwit hurt you!" Ron snapped when he finally found his voice. "I'll kill him. Tell me what he did!"

"He was a virgin, Ron. . .He didn't know what he was doing."

"You should have showed him what to do."

"I don't think that would have gone over too well," Hermione said, feeling her face heat up. "He thought I was a virgin, too."

Ron let out an incredulous laugh. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"Josh is a very reserved sort of person. . . He assumed I was a virgin and I never corrected him. What difference would it have made?"

"I've got news for you, Hermione. . .It's pretty obvious when a girl's a virgin. He was an idiot for not noticing," Ron said, pulling a face of disgust.

"Been with many virgins, have you?" Hermione couldn't resist asking.

"No, Miss Granger, just one," Ron said, as he let his head fall back against the tub, closing his eyes once more. "And there was a huge difference--One I'd rather not repeat."

"Is that true, Ron?" Hermione said, unable to hide her surprise.

"Yeah, it's true," Ron said, sounding very affronted. "I'm not a total prat. . .I like sex to be enjoyable, not painful. Virgins are strictly off limits."

"What happened with me then?"

Ron opened his eyes and looked at her. His gaze ran over her face, and a ghost of a smile danced over his lips. "With you I just couldn't resist."

"So it wasn't that horrible then?" Hermione whispered as she leaned into him more, the warm water flowing between their bodies as her bare beasts pressed against his chest.

"No, it wasn't horrible," Ron said, as one large hand ran over her back, tracing the line of her spine. "But I hate hurting you. . . I'm so sorry about earlier. I'm still sick over it."

"Mmm, it's okay. . . Don't be sick."

"I am. . . My stomach still hurts."

Hermione let her head rest against his broad shoulder, and she sighed softly, feeling very contented as the warmth of Ron's touch mingled with the heat from the water. "You shouldn't give yourself a stomachache over something so silly. I thought the sex was lovely."

Ron's hand was still running over her back, and he chuckled lightly. "You always say that."

"That's because it's always true," Hermione murmured, feeling like she never wanted to leave the bathtub and wondering how long they could stay in there before the water grew cold. "Let's just stay like this forever."

"Sounds good."

Ron's hand continued to trace the line of her back, and occasionally Hermione would place kisses against his hard chest. It felt so good to be held by him. The world seemed miles away and Hermione enjoyed just being with Ron. It may have been reckless, but the hotel room had been well worth the risk.

The water was way past lukewarm, and was starting to have a chill by the time Ron broke the silence. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Please promise me you won't shag another fuckwit. . . Make sure the next bloke knows what he's doing."

"Are we still caught up on this?"

"It's bothering me," Ron said, shifting slightly in the tub and placing a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You're so brilliant. . .So strong. . .Why would you put up with that?"

Hermione shrugged, pulling away from his grip on her chin to rest her head back against his shoulder. "I don't know. It wasn't always bad, and I think it was mostly my fault, not his."

"How can you say that?"

"Josh was smart and refined, and we had so much in common. I loved having conversations with him. Even if we had opposing views on something he was fun to debate. Sex isn't everything. . . I just convinced myself that it didn't matter that I wasn't attracted to him sexually. It was easy to pretend, especially since he seemed to like it well it enough."

Ron snorted. "All blokes like sex with a beautiful woman."

"Well, I wouldn't say I was beautiful. . . Average at best," she said, feeling a small blush rise up on her cheeks.

"I think you're beautiful."

Hermione laughed. "Yes, but you're strange."

"George thinks you're beautiful."

"He's strange too. . . Very strange."

"I won't argue that," Ron said, and Hermione could hear the smile in his voice. "The point is, no more clueless wankers. You're better than that. You deserve the whole package, not just some of it."

"I don't want the whole package. I just want this," Hermione said, surprising herself by how much she meant it. She lifted her head and looked at him. "Can't we just stay like this, Ron? This is lovely, don't you think?"

Ron was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice cracked. "What is this, Hermione?"

"Friendship," she said, trying to put her feelings into words and not foul it up like she had the last time. "Companionship."

"Lust," Ron offered cynically.

"And lovely sex," she countered, smiling.

Ron smiled back at her, looking like he couldn't resist. "Yes, mustn't forget the lovely sex."

"Definitely not," Hermione said, feeling a surge of joy at the thought of winning this particular argument. "Comfortableness."

"Experience," Ron said, his smiling broadening when Hermione looked at him in confusion. "No virgins to worry about."

"Oh right, I think I'm inclined to agree with you about the no virgin rule."

"It's a good rule. Experience is always the best choice."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. "Well, you've got that one covered."

"I wouldn't talk. . . You know even know the special names for everything. . . F-spot or whatever. . ."

"G-spot."

"Right, that's it. . . See, I'm always learning something new," Ron said, and then appeared deep in thought for a second. "How about proper defensive skills. . . Always handy to be involved with someone who can protect you in case of emergency."

"Which one of us is going to be doing the protecting?"

"You, of course. . . You can fight off all the virgins for me."

Hermione burst out laughing. "Okay, and you can fight off all the clueless wankers for me."

"Gladly. Am I allowed to use weapons?" Ron asked, sounding a little too hopeful.

"Yes, but only to maim. . .Murder seems a bit over the top."

"Oh, you're no fun," Ron sighed in false indignation as his head fell heavily back against the tub. "Bugger, the water's cold now."

"Want me to warm it up? My wand's right there."

"Nah, we'll get out in a second. My stomach feels better." Ron's hands ran over Hermione's naked back again, and she shuddered from his touch. "So, what about love. . . Does that go on the list?"

Hermione lifted her head and looked at Ron. His eyes were closed, but she could sense his sudden tension and she didn't want to ruin the fragile web of security that they had created. She bit at her lip, thinking of the right words. "How about commitment instead?"

His eyes opened, and he stared at her for a long moment. "I could do commitment."

"Me too. . .I could commit to this." Hermione reached out, and brushed at the red hair she loved so much. "Does that work?"

"It's a start," Ron said, and then hugged her to him, his large arms wrapping around her smaller body until she was almost breathless. "You wanna get out of the bath and put our experience to good use?"

"I think that's sounds lovely."

Ron laughed, his voice echoing off the bathroom tiles, and it was the nicest thing Hermione had heard in a long time.


	14. Friends

Wasn’t it just Ron’s luck that the second Hermione agreed to a committed relationship, everything in the world that could go to shit. . . did.

As if Harry shagging Ginny wasn’t enough, the war had blown up all around them. The Dementors had switched sides, freeing everyone in Azkaban before they went on a rampage that left innocent, soulless bodies in their wake.

Ron hadn’t been surprised when he’d received the official letter calling him to duty now that he was old enough. He’d been waiting for that one since the day he turned seventeen, but it was the letters that Harry and Hermione had received that had really tested the strength of his friendship with them both. While his letter had been an official draft notice, Harry and Hermione had simply received “requests” to work full time for the War Mage offices. They’d used Ron as bait, knowing that they couldn’t officially call Hermione (a woman) or Harry (who wouldn’t be of age until July) into service. While Ron knew the fight with Harry was pointless; Ron had really thrown a fit when Hermione decided she was going too.

He lost that fight. . . That’s what he got for falling in love with a woman who was too stubborn for her own good.

Ron supposed the silver lining was that he and Hermione had ended up staying with Harry at Lupin Lodge for the summer. While their relationship was still under huge amounts of stress, being able to sleep with Hermione curled against him helped a lot. Plus, the make-up sex was hot.

He and Hermione had never had the kind of privacy that Lupin Lodge now gave them, and while Ron was technically sharing Harry’s room, Sirius and Remus seemed to turn a blind eye to the fact that Ron walked out of Hermione’s door every morning. It was an added bonus that Hermione got the larger second bedroom, the one with a bathroom attached since she was the only woman in the house. . . Shower sex was hot too.

Ron sighed and laced a hand behind his head, enjoying the peacefulness that came with simply being alone with Hermione. She was tracing her finger over the Gryffindor Lion that now permanently decorated Ron’s right bicep. It was a good sign considering she’d been hacked off at him for days about getting it.

“Did it hurt?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Yup, it hurt like hell.”

“Well, it serves you right,” she said, and then went back to touching the intricate artwork. “At least he did a good job. You’re lucky it didn’t get infected.”

Ron flexed his arm as he winked at Hermione. “Admit it. . .You think it’s sexy.”

“I’ll will admit no such thing. . . What’s it going to look like when you’re eighty? All sad and saggy.” Hermione wrinkled her nose and pulled at face at him. “Yuck!”

“I doubt I’ll make it to eighty.” Ron rolled over on top of Hermione, pinning her to the bed with his weight. “Sad and saggy tattoos are the least of my worries.”

“Ron,” Hermione chastised, swatting at his shoulder. “Don’t talk like that. . .Please.”

Hearing the concern in her voice touched him in way that was hard to place and he felt a smile tug at his lips. “Will you miss me when I’m gone?”

Hermione stared up at him, her brown eyes studying his features as she whispered. “Will you stop talking about dying? You’re not going anywhere.”

“We’re all going to die, Hermione,” he said, as images of the past swirled in the back of his mind and he remembered what it was like to look death in the face. It had been two years since he and Harry had been kidnapped, but he could still feel that knife against his throat like it was yesterday. “Dying’s easy. It’s the living that’s hard, don’t you think?”

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking concerned as she reached up and ran a hand through his hair. “You were so shaken when you got home.”

Ron looked away from her, and stared out the window. The bright sunlight seemed unnatural, especially since he worked night shifts. It felt as if something as welcoming as the sun didn’t belong in his world anymore. The death and violence he’d seen since he started work with the Department of Mysteries fit better at night, and though he didn’t tell Harry, he preferred the night shift, even if the job was harder.

“Ron?”

He closed his eyes when he felt himself flush in embarrassment. It had been easy to forget in the warm afternoon light that he had completely fallen apart when he got off work early that morning. It had all been too much, and he had somehow wound up sobbing in Hermione’s arms after she found him trying to wash away the memories of the pervious night in the shower. He hated that he’d been so weak. He’d only had a few hours of sleep since then, but it had helped him feel at least a little refreshed; now everything from earlier rushed back at him.

“I’m fine,” he said, rolling off her. “I was just. . . tired.”

Hermione was quiet. He turned to see her nod in acceptance of his lame excuse and then get up. He watched her move around the room, still naked, with the afternoon sunlight making her skin glow. Her muscles shifted subtly as she leaned over to look through her drawer. She was feminine in her own way, but still so different from other women he’d seen naked. The lines of her body were more defined, sharp and angular instead of gentle and rounded. Ron had seen some Muggle women with bodies like Hermione’s, but it was very odd for a witch to work out enough to have her shape, and the fact that she was unique appealed to him. She was so beautiful that she took his breath away.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, finding that the words sort of jumped out of him. “For earlier. . . I mean.”

Hermione pulled on a fresh pair of knickers and turned to look at him, her voice soft and reassuring as she spoke. “I meant what I said this morning. . . We’re in this together. Don’t ever feel bad for leaning on me. No one can be strong all the time.”

As horrific as everything was, the war, being drafted, the constant fear for his family and friends now that everything had gone to hell, Hermione’s words still gave Ron hope. He’d never felt closer to her, and it made the other horrors sort of fade into the distance.

Hermione got dressed, and it wasn’t until Ron watched her struggle with her hair, trying to get her thick curls into two neat braids that were only long enough to curl under each ear, that he remembered that today was the day Hermione officially started work for the Department. Due to a rather profound screw up on Ron’s part, Hermione’s start date had to be put off until a partner could be found for her.

Suddenly, Ron wasn’t feeling so hopeful.

“It’s not too late,” he grumbled as Hermione tied an elastic around her braid and looked at him questioningly through the mirror’s reflection. “Just tell them you changed your mind.”

“I’m not arguing over this any more,” Hermione said, and Ron could tell she was trying to keep her temper in check. “We’ve already settled it.”

“That was before I knew you were going to get some arsehole partner that I don’t even know.”

Hermione put her hand on her forehead and took a few deep breaths before she spoke. “Ron, I’m not thrilled about having to work with someone I don’t know and you complaining constantly about it doesn’t help. It wouldn’t even be an issue if you hadn’t let it slip that we were involved.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Ron snapped defensively. “That fucker dragged it out of me.”

“I’m not accusing you,” she said, turning around in the vanity chair and staring at him pleadingly. “I’m just pointing out that this isn’t my fault either. The last thing I wanted was to be separated from you and Harry, but I’ll deal with it for now. Please, just don’t make it harder on me.”

“What if he tries something?”

Hermione laughed. “I doubt that’ll be an issue.”

“I know how men think, Hermione. . . You’re a beautiful woman,” Ron rasped, feeling his stomach churn in nervousness. “You’ll be spending a lot of time with this bloke.”

Hermione got up from the vanity and walked over to him. She leaned down and kissed him. “Thank you,” she whispered against his lips. “But most blokes aren’t barmy like you. It’s not like I have men knocking down my door.”

“Bollocks,” he snapped, pulling away from her. “Look at George. If he didn’t know I’d kill him for trying, he’d be hounding you day and night. He’s got a real thing for you, Hermione.”

“No offense, but most of your family is a bit odd. I’ve yet to find an explanation for you or your brothers.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hermione sighed. “I don’t know. It just seems like all of you have strange tastes in women.”

“I thought you liked Aki.”

Aki was Charlie’s new girlfriend who just happened to work at the Department of Mysteries as an assassin. She was probably the scariest woman Ron had ever met, but she was strangely beautiful in her own way. She had that same small, muscular build that Hermione had, and she was coolly efficient in a fight. Ron could certainly see what Charlie saw in her.

“I do. I like her very much.”

“Then what?” Ron asked, still baffled. “You can’t say Angelina isn’t beautiful. Aside from going out with Fred, she’s almost normal.”

“Are she and Fred going out?” Hermione asked as she went back to putting on her War Mage uniform.

“I guess. If you call shagging going out.”

Hermione turned back to him, a smile quirking at the corner of her lips. “Last year she told me she hated Fred.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “She says that. . . But I know they still shag. Fred’s mad for her. It drives George nuts. I think he’s jealous. He wants Fred all to himself.”

Hermione gave a quick laugh. “Please tell me that’s not true.”

“Oh, it’s true. The twins don’t fight often, but when they do. . .You can bet it’s over Angelina.”

“George needs a girlfriend,” Hermione said as she brushed at her uniform and studied herself in the mirror.

“I agree. . . If for no other reason, so he can stop obsessing over you. I’d hate to kill my own brother.”

“From you. . . That’s an oddly endearing comment.” Hermione smiled, as she turned from the mirror and held her hands out to Ron who was still lying in bed, miserable. “How do I look?”

He groaned, feeling his stomach churn again. “Please, don’t go.”

“Ron, that’s not what I asked.”

“You look great, okay?” His head fell heavily back against the pillow as he pulled the sheets over his head. “Have a grand time with your new partner.”

Hermione jerked the sheets out his hands and kissed him again. “You have nothing to worry about. I can take care of myself.” Ron huffed and pulled the sheets back as he rolled over in bed. Hermione laughed at him. “I’ll see you tonight.”

~*~

“You’re out of your fucking mind!” Charlie Weasley raged, jumping up from his seat so fast that he knocked it over. “No way!”

Colonel Eddie McMellon arched an eyebrow at him, seemingly unfazed by Charlie’s outburst. “You’re the only the chap I have for the job, Charlie. I’m asking you to do this as a personal favor.”

“Personal is right!” Charlie said, sucking in a hard breath as he started to pace around the room. “I can’t work with her. I’m sorry Ed, but I just can’t. She’s too close to my family.”

“I realize that, but you’re the only War Mage I have who I trust to work with her. She’s young and very pretty. She’d distract anyone else.”

Charlie turned to look at him incredulously. “What makes you think she won’t distract me?”

“Well, I assumed the relationship she has with your brother would make you a bit more responsible where she’s concerned. Plus, you work well with women. All the female assassins like you. Look at Aki. I’ve never seen her warm up to anyone like she does to you.”

It was on the tip of Charlie’s tongue to mention that there was a very good reason why Aki was friendly with him, but he restrained himself for the moment. “I don’t work well with women, Ed. In fact, it’s usually the exact opposite. I end up fucking up royally with them.”

Eddie laughed. “I’m not asking you to get involved with her. I’m asking you to be her partner.”

“Okay, distraction aside. . . Hermione’s shagging Ron. He’s mad over her and not to bad mouth my brother, but he’s not always playing with a full deck, especially where Hermione’s concerned. If something happens to her. . .It means my arse.”

“Better make sure nothing happens to her then,” Eddie said, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. “Ron had some issues with Major Flagger a few days back. After seeing him in action I can honestly say that I wouldn’t want to be on your brother’s bad side.”

“What happened with Flagger?” Charlie asked in alarm. He and Flagger had a long history of mutual loathing that went all the way back to Hogwarts. He should have known that Flagger would mess with Ron simply for being his brother. “Did he start something with Ron? Because if he did. . .”

“Your brother held his own,” Eddie said, and then he smiled, looking delighted. Charlie knew that secretly, Eddie hated Flagger as much as he did. “Ron put him in the hospital. It was damn shame that I didn’t get there a bit earlier.”

Charlie smiled at the sarcasm leaking out of the Colonel’s voice. “Yeah, I’m sure it was a real tragedy. Sorry I missed it.”

“Anyway, Charlie. . .Please say that you’ll partner with her. I know it puts you in a bad position, but I’m a bit desperate here.”

“Why not just put her back with Ron and Harry?” Charlie pleaded, feeling drained. His week had been horrid. This was the last thing he needed. “You know I wasn’t thrilled about you drafting Ron to begin with.”

“It wasn’t my decision to draft him. I’ve told you that.”

Charlie sighed, glaring at his friend. “You’re not really giving me a choice in this, are you?”

“No, not really.”

Charlie ran a hand through his short hair in frustration. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to get his temper under control. “I really don’t want to do this, Ed. . . Partnering with my brother’s bird is just asking for trouble.”

“Look, I’ve put serious thought into this. We all know that you can be a bit of a hot head sometimes--”

“That’s not true!” Charlie shouted. Eddie arched an eyebrow at him, a maddening smirk on his lips, and Charlie had to concede a little. “Okay, maybe sometimes. . .But it doesn’t get in the way of my job.”

“Maybe not, but personality-wise you two match up well. Miss Granger is very levelheaded, but her tests show that sometimes she can be a little too rational. She lacks the ability to make rash decisions when she doesn’t have all the facts, and we both know that sometimes it’s a gut decision that will save your life. While you on the other hand tend to act on instinct first, and ask questions later. . .Which isn’t always the best course of action either. You two would offer each other a balance.”

Charlie considered this for a second, unable to hide a tiny smirk. “Maybe that’s why her and Ron can’t stay away from each other. . .They balance each other out.”

“Possibly, but her relationship with your brother isn’t my concern. Her safety is. . . Both of your safety. Despite the conflict of interest, I think Miss Granger could be a real asset to you. I would have considered you for her partner even if I hadn’t found out about her relationship with Ron. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a partner you can really work well with and I think Miss Granger is the perfect person for the job.”

Charlie groaned. He wasn’t fully swayed by the Colonel’s argument, but he realized that he was fighting a losing battle if Eddie had really spent this much time thinking about the decision. “Fine, I’ll be her partner, but only if we’re teamed with Ron and Harry. The three of them, I dunno. . .They have some sort of weird connection. I think it would be bad to separate them completely.”

“I’d be willing to agree to that, but you’d have to switch to the night shift.”

Charlie’s shoulders sagged, this just got better and better. “The night shift? Come on, Ed. I hate the nightshift. I like having my nights free.”

“That’s the deal,” Eddie said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Take it or leave it.”

Charlie was about to concede defeat when a knock sounded on the Colonel’s office door. “Who is it?” Eddie barked in annoyance.

“It’s Hermione Granger.”

Charlie righted his chair and flopped into it as Eddie told Hermione to come in. He turned as the door opened, seeing Hermione in her War Mage uniform standing there, looking shocked as she stared from the Colonel to Charlie. “Was I interrupting something? I know I’m a bit early.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Eddie, gesturing to the seat next to Charlie. “Have a seat, Miss Granger.”

Hermione sat down, casting a glance at Charlie again. He lifted a hand and gave her a small wave when she arched an eyebrow at him. “Hey, Hermione.”

She nodded in acknowledgement; still looking a bit bemused, she turned back to the Colonel. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back?”

“No, Charlie and I were just discussing your work schedules,” Eddie said. “Would you mind working the night shift with Ron and Harry?”

“Not at all,” Hermione said, smiling a little even as a small frown of concentration marred her features. “You said schedules, plural, does that mean--”

“Charlie’s going to be your new partner,” Eddie finished for her. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

Charlie snorted at Eddie pretending to give her an option. Hermione’s frowned deepened as she turned to Charlie, looking a little hurt. “I don’t mind at all. . .But Charlie, if you don’t want to work with me. I’d understand.”

“It’s fine, Hermione,” Charlie said, giving her a reassuring smile. “I didn’t mean anything. I’m just less than thrilled about working the night shift.”

“It’s temporary, Charlie,” Ed said, smiling at him as he picked up some files off his desk. “I’ll owl you two your new schedules sometime later this afternoon. You’re dismissed.”

Charlie got up, trying not to roll his eyes at Ed’s brisk nature. Out of habit, he pulled Hermione’s chair out for her, and she glanced up at him, arching an eyebrow. She looked shocked again when he held the door open for her as they walked out into the hallway and Charlie couldn’t help but laugh. “Doesn’t my little brother open doors for you, Hermione?”

“I just don’t want you to think you have to baby me because I’m a woman. I can open my own doors.”

Charlie smirked, reaching down to rest his hand on her lower back as he guided her towards the break room. Hermione turned, looking at his hand on her back and arched an eyebrow once more. He almost cursed under his breath, and silently jerked his hand back as he opened the door to the break room. “It’s a habit, okay?” he said, when Hermione seemed put out that he opened another door for her. “One that I doubt you’ll break.”

Hermione shrugged and walked in, looking very prim in her War Mage uniform, which was sort of funny in itself. He’d never spent time really studying Hermione, but she was such an interesting woman, bold, strong, incredibly intelligent, and she had a unique look that appealed to him. He liked her short hair, now braided back away from her face and her small compact body that reminded him of Aki’s. He could see why his brother was so fascinated with her and again he couldn’t help feeling a little apprehensive about working so closely with her.

“Charlie, are you uncomfortable working with me?”

Charlie jerked out his thoughts, flushing red when he realized that he was staring at Hermione in way that might be perceived as more than friendly. “A little. . . But, I can handle it.”

“Is it because I’m a woman?” She asked, her voice sharp as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I would have thought better of you considering Aki.”

Charlie sighed, running a hand through his hair and deciding to be honest. “I know you’re very capable as a War Mage, so don’t get into a huff. . . I’ve just never been friends with a woman before. I tend to keep them at arm’s length, which is going to be very difficult if we are working together all the time.”

“Why do you keep them at arm’s length?”

Charlie gaped, and he tried not to roll his eyes at her need to get the root of the problem. He wondered if she was always like this, and if so, how Ron could stand it. He wavered, but in the end, decided to be honest once again. If she was going to be his partner, she deserved that much.

“Let’s just say I have a bad habit of ending up naked and in bed with most of my female friends.”

To his surprise, Hermione smirked, looking very amused. “Not to hurt your ego, Charlie, but I don’t think that’ll be an issue. I already have a Weasley to lay in bed naked with.”

Charlie arched an eyebrow at her, finding that he very much liked Hermione. She had a sharp tongue and a sharp mind and if he was younger, and not already madly in love with Aki, Ron might actually have some competition for her. As it was, he might just enjoy having her for a partner. If was going to forge a friendship with a woman, Hermione was a good as any, perhaps better. She knew his family, and in a way, probably understood him better than many women would be able to. As his younger brothers got older, Charlie had to admit that were eerie similarities that he shared with all of them.

“No worries, my ego is still in tact,” Charlie said, smirking.

“I’m sure,” Hermione said dryly, and then her voice suddenly turned sincere. “Thanks for agreeing to be my partner, Charlie. You’re the only person besides Harry and I that could work with Ron. I haven’t slept well since Harry and Ron started working. I’ll feel much better being with them.”

Charlie smiled, feeling a soft spot for Hermione growing in his chest. Anyone who cared that deeply about his brother had his loyalty. He could easily be Hermione’s partner, and his faith in Ed was once again restored. “It’s not a problem, love. . .I’m relieved to be working with them too.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what?” Charlie said, frowning at her.

“Don’t call me, love. . .My name is Hermione and that’s what I like to be called,” Hermione said, her tone completely different than it had been seconds ago.

He winced; the term had just slipped out. “Sorry, I guess its habit again.”

She smiled, shrugging a little. “I know. . .We’ll just have to work on breaking you of it. Before I’m through with you, you’ll have dozens of platonic female friends.”

“Oh, let’s not rush it,” Charlie said, pulling a horrified face. “I’d rather start with one.”

Hermione held out a hand to him, and Charlie took it hesitantly feeling a bit odd shaking hands with her, but she smiled at him approvingly. “That’s a deal,” Hermione said, as she stepped back and looked towards the door. “I think I’ll go back home if we’re done. Ron was beside himself with worry over who my partner was going to be. He’ll feel much better knowing it’s you.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Charlie said, winking at her. “He might just feel worse. I am a handsome devil.”

Hermione shrugged, unfazed. “If you say so,” she said as she walked towards the door. “But I always fancied tall blokes. . . In my book you just don’t measure up.”

“Hey!” Charlie shouted at her. “That did hurt.”

She opened the door and turned back to him, arching that superior eyebrow once more. “Just keep in mind that you and I are both spoken for. . .And you won’t get hurt.”

She walked out without a backwards glance, and Charlie couldn’t help it. . .He laughed. Poor Ron, he had his hands full with that one.


End file.
